


Just Because I'm Moving Doesn't Mean I'm Not a Corpse

by dark_def (dedicatedfollower467)



Series: Smells Like Belonging [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - C-PTSD, Crushes, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Families of Choice, Flashbacks, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Loose Interpretation of Canon, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Scent Marking, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Tickling, Touch-Starved, Victim Blaming, also is there an equivalent to 'Meteorstuck' but for the characters on the ship?, because past bro/dave has a HUGE influence on this story, bro's dead but i felt like i had to tag for him, it's sort of a smushed-together mix of the two of them, like if the RetJohn timeline happened but they didn't actually need to retcon anything, shipstuck, sure let's go with that, this is neither the Retjohn nor the Game Over timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dark_def
Summary: Davesprite is perfectly aware that he is the backup Dave. He's the bargain-bin, bottom-of-the-barrel, scraping-up-the-dregs, last-resort Dave. He's not the Dave that anyone would everchoosetoo hang out with, if given the option. Plus, even before he became a sprite, he was hardly the kind of Omega that folks would bring home to their parents. Bro ruined him, and he knows that now.Jade and John have three years to figure all this out, so it's only a matter of time before they leave him behind.
Relationships: Davesprite & Nannasprite (Homestuck), Davesprite/Jade Harley, Davesprite/John Egbert
Series: Smells Like Belonging [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592716
Comments: 97
Kudos: 191





	1. Not Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this chapter _really_ fought with me, but I needed to write it and get it posted so that I can get a move on with some of the other Act Two fics.
> 
> This is the second fic that's going to be pretty integral to Act Two, since it shows the other side of the three year long journey to the new session. Like I mentioned a couple fics ago, Act Two starts to explore the POVs of a couple of different characters, other than just Dave. This fic is from Davesprite's POV - which is kinda like being from Dave's POV, but also kinda not.
> 
> This fic may or may not eventually have endgame ships and/or smut - it's the least planned out of my Act Two fics so far, so I'm kind of feeling my way through the dark, right now. The rating and tags may both change with this fic before we're done, so as I've said before, caveat lector!
> 
> The title of this fic comes from "Call in the Coroner" by Days N' Daze.

You weren’t prepared to meet John.

It’s funny. Everything you’ve done - exploring game, coming back in time, hell, even turning yourself into a sprite, in a way - you did for him. But up until right now, you’ve never had the chance to actually _meet_ him. Not in person.

And now you’re here, very suddenly, and he’s standing right in front of you.

“Oh shit, it’s Dave Sprite!” John says, like “sprite” is your last name, like you’re Mr. Sprite, oh no please, call me Dave, my _father_ is Mr. Sprite, no relation to the coke, of course.

You’re maybe babbling a little bit inside your own head, because _you weren’t prepared to meet John._

Rose was great, just as wry and acerbic in person as she was over text, but _you_ went to meet _her_ , at least in your session, helped to wake up her dream self. Jadesprite - who’s just Jade, now, you guess - was as sweet and kind as you’d always dreamed she would be, and once again, _you_ were the one to approach _her_.

It helped that they were both Betas, and both girls, and that you’d never _once_ fantasized about either of them while getting fucked by your Bro.

To be fair to him, it wasn’t John’s choice to approach you, either. This is entirely, one hundred percent Jade’s fault, and you’d hold it against her if you could find even an ounce of malice in your heart for Jade.

He seems to realize that this is the first time he’s met you in person, too. As far as you know, it’s the first time he’s seen _any_ Dave in person.

You know you’re not the real deal, but something still makes your heart pound so hard you’d think it was trying to escape your ribs when he steps in close to you and takes a couple of short sniffs.

Things are about to get real weird. But you still lean in, taking one big inhalation and catching his scent in your nostrils.

The smell practically _floors_ you because, Jesus Christ, John smells _so much better_ than you _ever_ dreamed.

John's scent is the warm honeyed crackle of roast ham, the salty, greasy sizzle of bacon fat, the delicate odor of woodsmoke drifting on the breeze. It’s definitely Alpha, but the thick meaty smell has a rich fattiness that softens the animalistic musk so common among Alphas. It genuinely makes your mouth water a bit. You haven’t felt hungry since becoming a sprite, but you are suddenly ravenous, want nothing more than to sink your teeth into his shoulders and come undone under his tongue.

You watch John’s eyes widen, see him swallow, as he takes in your honey-and-strawberries smell. Is that fear, or just surprise, or is it possibly even a little excitement? You know what you’d like it to be. You equally know that there’s no way it’s what you’re hoping for.

“You’re Omega?” John says. “Is that from the bird thing? Or… I guess maybe, did you present in the other timeline?”

You shake your head. “Nah, Dave’s an Omega, too,” you say. Then, because you’re a petty, cruel, and self-sabotaging idiot, you add, “Has been since he was ten.”

Watching John’s face fall feels like a fist in the gut, but that’s okay. It just serves as a reminder that you’re never going to get what you want from him. There’s no way John would ever want you, even before you became off-brand bargain-bin Bird Dave. 

Because you were always going to be damaged goods. You were never going to be the kind of Omega anyone would care to bring home to their parents. At best, you’re a quick back-alley fuck, down on your knees in a muddy puddle of piss and beer, grime coating your skin, still begging for every touch like the worthless little slut you are.

Bro ruined you. You have accepted this.

Doesn’t stop John’s disappointed frown from crushing your spirit like an eggshell under an elephant’s foot.

“Why didn’t he ever tell us?” he asks. His scent changes then, but you don’t know it well enough to identify what he’s feeling right now. “Didn’t he trust us?”

You don’t know how to say, “Not really,” without sounding like an asshole, so you don’t say anything at all.

You try to keep things light, comically vandalizing his little poster-slash-letter thing with some Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff faces. At least Main Dave will probably appreciate that touch. Unfortunately, it does nothing to relieve the awkward tension between you and John, just leaves you feeling like a tool. You’re being a dick for no reason and you _know_ it, but you can’t find a good reason to reign yourself in.

You’re still backup Dave. You’re still not the Dave that either Jade or John want as their friend. And it will be three years before they get to see him in person. Until then, they just get you, the inferior bird version. So it’s probably better for Real Dave if you make a bad impression, so that they don’t get attached to _you_ in place of Real Dave.

But then John slings an arm around your shoulders as he pulls you and Jade both in for a group hug, and your resolve very nearly buckles.

He is so _close_ and he smells so fucking _good_ , and you’ve been dreaming of him since you were ten fucking years old, have been _aching_ for him to be your Alpha, and he’s right here and his scent is of _bacon_ and you want to drown yourself in him. You want to let him take care of you and fuss over you and you want him to touch you all the fucking time.

“It’s gonna be so much fun hanging out with you two!” he says. “Three years is a long time, but I bet it will feel like nothing at all with two of my best friends.”

Jade grins and laughs. “Yeah! And we’ve got all these consorts, and Nanna, and Jaspers, and it’s gonna be a blast!”

John nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s the spirit! We’ll make this the best three-year-long sleepover _ever_.”

You can’t stop yourself from pressing into John’s side, drinking in that hug like it’s a bottle of the best apple juice you’ve ever tasted. Your heart hurts because you _know_ that this can’t last.

Eventually, they’re going to realize that you’re not the Dave they want. They’re going to see how broken and awful you are, how dirty and disgraced Bro has made you. You are nothing, _less_ than nothing, a greedy Omega slut with daddy issues, and one day they’re going to drop you like a sick bass line.

But you’re just selfish enough to let them imagine otherwise, to bask in their friendship, to bathe yourself in John’s mouth-watering Alpha scent, until that happens.

You get an almost vicious sense of satisfaction, knowing that Real Dave is just as broken as you.

Neither of you will _ever_ be good enough for your friends.


	2. Broken Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something up with Jade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy I love this chapter a lot.
> 
> I actually figured out the general structure of this fic, now, _and_ I've figured out the ships, so I've changed the ratings and tags to reflect some of the stuff that will be coming later down the line. Does it make you excited? Because boy lemme tell you, _it sure excites me._
> 
> TW: for blood in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

There's something up with Jade.

You’ve been living on this ship for… what, a month now? One month out of the 36 it’ll take to reach the new session. You like to think that in that time you've started to feel out the natural rhythms and habits of your fellow shipmates. 

Nanna bakes almost religiously. She is up before you every day at some ungodly hour to start making pancakes or muffins or banana bread or whatever the baked good of the day is, no matter how early you try to get up to catch her in the act. You're starting to suspect that she never sleeps. 

She dialed back on the baking a bit after the first week, when she realized that the consorts can't really digest wheat or most other grains, and that you sprites can't actually digest _anything_. You can swallow it down, but there's no hole in your sprite tails for it to come out the other end. Her food smells and tastes fucking delicious, but it's just not worth having to barf it all back up a few hours later.

You wonder if she misses getting to sample her own cooking. You personally feel like it's cruel and unusual punishment that she keeps making food you can't actually eat. It's why you avoid hanging out near the kitchens. 

John loves Nanna's baking, except when she makes cakes, but she's made fewer of those ever since she's realized how much John hates them. He has routines of his own, too - they mostly involve sleeping in until past noon, playing video games or watching movies until he's bored out his fucking skull and starts pestering you or Jade into doing something fun with him. 

You normally blow him off, but Jade still seems so enamored with the novelty of having actual _people_ around, face-to-face, that she almost always agrees. It's kind of cute, watching them chat and play and occasionally roughhouse. Honestly, it's surprising how quickly they fall into a Hollywood-perfect sibling dynamic, but when you see them together, it's so obvious that they are family you’re a little surprised it took an ectobiology session for you all to figure out that they’re related.

When she's not hanging with John, Jade spends most of her time reading and messing around with her science equipment and Witch powers. The first week she raided all of your houses for books (surprise surprise, she didn't actually _find_ any in yours), and she spends a suspicious amount of time messing around with little pieces of machinery and wires and wrenches. You've got no clue what the heck she's building here, if she's even building anything and not just fiddling with shit.

The first time you saw her sit up from her workbench, wiping sweat off her brow, hair tied back with a bandana, wearing a grease-stained tank top that barely covered her bra and highlighted every rippling muscle in her arms, you were overcome with such insatiable lust that you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom, where you splashed cold water on your face until you felt normal again.

John frequently gets the same reaction out of you. Every time he lifts something enormously heavy without a thought, or licks his lips in anticipation of one of Nanna's cookies, or rips off his shirt, complaining that it's too fucking hot in here, you feel like your brain is oozing out your ears. His chest is just as fuzzy, his pecs as well-defined as you always imagined they would be.

Thinking of them like _that_ , especially Jade, makes you feel so dirty and _wrong._

They are both so innocent and pure, and you are this slimy, tarnished thing, coated in a thin film of filth that no amount of scrubbing will ever wash clean. What's more, they're not distant fantasies any more - they're real, living, breathing people, and the thought of turning them into playthings for your disgusting imagination makes you feel sick inside.

Especially since. Y’know. You can’t even _jerk off_ , since you don’t have a dick, anymore.

But enough about your twisted thoughts. The point is, you think you know their patterns, their routines, their tendencies, pretty well by now.

And something is up with Jade.

She’s been uncharacteristically irritable for the past few days, but you really start to notice the changes when one morning she holes herself up in her room and doesn’t come out for breakfast. Then she tells John she isn’t feeling well and doesn’t want to hang out with him. The few times you see her in the halls of the ship, she seems to be going straight from her room to the bathroom, her eyes wide.

At first you figure maybe she’s got some kind of stomach bug or something. You didn’t really think gods were supposed to be able to get illnesses, but hey, maybe sprites don’t always know everything.

So you decide to check up on her, see if she needs like, soup or cough syrup or something. You’re sure John’s house probably has something like what she needs. Except if she’s sick she’s gonna be the one to have to shrink you down and grow you back up. Still, at least she wouldn’t have to fetch that stuff _herself_.

You can hear movement on the other side of the door - swishing noises, like uh. Like wet fabric being moved around maybe? Suddenly you’re worried that she’s thrown up in there or something, and you knock.

“Jade? You in there? It’s me,” you say.

There’s no reply, but the sound of the swishing gets louder, faster, and even from the other side of the door you can hear her panicked breathing, like she’s about to start hyperventilating or something. You bend close to the crack of the door, and an unfamiliar scent hits your nose, and you are suddenly _very_ worried.

Normally, you wouldn’t do what you’re about to do. You like to think you’re good at respecting other people’s privacy. You’re not the kind of person who pries into your friends’ business. You stay in your own lane and don’t glance to either side. But normally, one of your friends isn’t freaking out and making disturbing sounds and refusing to talk to you.

So you ghost your head through Jade’s door and take a peek inside.

The first thing you realize is that her room is fucking _spotless_. Not a single surface in the room has anything on it - no clutter, no doodads, and not even a speck of dust. There’s an almost overpowering chemical smell, some kind of strong detergent or sanitizer, and it’s unfamiliar and strange.

Jade is sitting on the floor of her room, tears leaking down her cheeks, and she is scrubbing furiously at a few bright red drops on her carpet with a sponge, a bucket at her side. She looks up when you peer inside, eyes wide and terrified, and she continues to pant, her white doggy ears pressed flat against her head. A spreading dark stain on her skirt makes your heart start beating faster.

The bleach smell isn’t the only unfamiliar scent in the room. You can’t catch even a whiff of Jade’s subtle, pre-presentation milky scent. Instead, there’s a smell that you can only describe as _green_ , sort of plant-y and _alive,_ which you really can’t place because you grew up in the middle of an enormous fucking city in Texas, where there wasn’t a whole lot of plant life to speak of.

There is also the slightest hint of blood in that scent, dark and metallic.

It takes you a moment to put it all together, the scent and the red stains and the cleaning, but once you do, tender pity fills you.

“Fuck, Jade,” you whisper, gliding fully into the room. “You’re presenting Beta, aren’t you?”

At that, Jade drops the sponge and promptly bursts into tears, dropping her head into her hands, tail clamped tight to her side in misery. “I can’t keep it _clean_ ,” she whispers, sounding broken and horrified. “I’ve scrubbed everything and put everything away but I keep _bleeding_ and it’s so _unsanitary_ and -” She cuts herself off with a long, mournful _howl_ , like a wolf abandoned by her pack. The sound squeezes your heart.

You float down to the floor in front of her, folding your tail as if you were kneeling. “Hey, listen, it’s gonna be okay, all right?” you say. “I’m gonna get Nanna and John in here, too. Do you still have our planets on you?”

Even as you speak to her you whip out your phone and pester John.

TG: yo egbert emergency this is not a drill  
TG: get you and your granny to jades room stat  
TG: shes presenting

Jade nods in response to your question about your planets, though she looks puzzled, and pulls the little orbs out of what appears to be thin air. You recaptchalogue your phone without waiting to see if you get a response from him.

“Okay, can you shrink me down and put me on Rose’s planet?” you say.

She looks even more confused and frantic than before. “You’re _leaving_ me?” she says, and the desperation in her voice makes you feel like an absolute tool, even though you know this is for her own good.

“Rose was a Beta, too,” you say. “She’ll have tampons and stuff in her house. That way you won’t keep bleeding all over.”

Jade bites her lip, clearly torn between her instinctive need for things to be _clean_ and her reluctance to be left alone while her hormones are raging so high. Unfortunately, you’re entirely dependent on her powers if you want to get the stuff she needs, so you have to let her come to the decision on her own.

That’s when there’s another knock at the door. “Jade? Dave Sprite?” says John, sounding worried as all hell. “It’s me and Nanna.”

You look over your shoulder. “Come in,” you call, because Jade has started shaking and is once again hyperventilating and you don’t think she can pull herself together long enough to invite them in herself.

John opens the door and you watch as both he and Nanna inhale deeply, their eyes going wide.

“Oh dear,” Nanna says. “Beta?”

John doesn’t even hesitate, crossing the room to sit down on the floor right next to Jade and put an arm around her shoulders. Jade sobs, hard, and grabs the front of his shirt, even as he starts to mutter comforting nonsense, one hand raising to gently tangle in her hair. A second later, Nanna brackets Jade’s other side, curling her tail underneath herself just like you have.

You clear your throat. “Listen, Jade,” you say. “You have to send me down to Rose’s planet. Nanna and John will take care of you while I’m away, and I’ll be right back. But you _really_ need tampons.”

She’s still sobbing too hard to say anything, but she lifts a hand towards you, and you feel the uncomfortable _pressurizing_ sensation as she shrinks you down to miniature size and a burst of speed when she zaps you to Rose’s world.

You don’t bother looking at any of the scenery around you, brush past the overexcited consorts that swarm you, burbling incoherently, because you have a mission and by _god_ you’re going to complete it.

Luckily, you spent almost four months in the game with Rose. You weren’t physically present with her for all of that time, but you still think you remember which bathroom in the house she tended to use most often.

As soon as you get there, you start tearing apart the cupboards and medicine cabinet, desperately hoping that you’ll actually be able to _recognize_ a package of tampons or pads or whatever when you see them.

You find them under the sink, a box of tampons and a box of pads, and you captchalogue them immediately, flipping them over to look at the captcha code on the back. Then, as fast as you can, you alchemize, like, _fifty_ of each.

It can’t have taken you very long. When you’re finished, you pull your phone out again and text John.

TG: okay tampons acquired  
TG: tell jade she can unshrink me now.

There’s no response, but after a second, you feel the telltale depressurizing feel of Jade embiggening you, which always makes you think she’s going to overdo it and your brain is going to pop out of your ears. But, as always, the feeling subsides quickly, and you are once more floating in the room, looking down at the little tableau below you, the three Harleyberts pressed together, heads all bent forward as if in prayer.

You almost hate to break it up, feel like an intruder on the scene.

“I got the tampons,” you say, tossing a package down at Jade’s feet. “And pads, too, I don’t know what’s easier or cleaner or whatever.”

Jade looks up, her eyes still shining with tears, and grabs both boxes, looking down at them. “I, um,” she whispers, looking between them and then to Nanna and John and you. “I don’t… I don’t think I can… I don’t want to be alone.”

It suddenly occurs to you that she doesn’t have a pack.

You don’t have a pack anymore, either, but Jade’s only pack member has been dead for years and years. It must have been so incredibly lonely on that island, out there in the middle of the ocean with no one around but a fucking dog. You didn’t get out of the apartment much, but at least you had Bro and the occasional neighbor to nod at you.

Going through heat without Bro was the worst thing that happened to you in the game.

And now Jade’s _presenting_ and she has… no one. Just a couple of friends that are as good as strangers, as far as her instincts are concerned.

No wonder she doesn’t want to be alone.

John frowns at her. “Jade, I love you, but I am _not_ comfortable with you getting naked in front of me to use one of those things.”

Jade swallows and blushes, shaking her head, but then she sobs again, a wail like she’s almost in _pain_. Nanna, beside her, curls an arm more tightly around her shoulder and gently pats her knee with the end of her tail.

Holy shit. The end of her _tail_.

“What if Nanna and I held your hand through the door to the bathroom?” you say, and reach the tip of your own tail out to brush her fingers.

Nanna is a hell of a lot more dextrous with her tail than you are. You haven’t consciously used it much, other than trying to pretend it’s the same as if your legs were wrapped up in a tube of fabric. As far as you can tell, it isn’t really _intended_ as an extra hand or prehensile appendage.

But Jade looks up with shining eyes, bites her lip, and nods.

It’s an awkward little congregation, the four of you moving as a strange-looking herd out of the bedroom, into the hallway, and down to the bathroom. Before Jade goes in, John smooths a lock of curly hair out of her face and presses an almost fatherly kiss to her forehead. She trembles for a second, letting out a high-pitched whine.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” Nanna says, tail caressing her back. You nod mutely, touching your own tail to her upper arm.

“And I’ll be right here when you’re finished,” John says.

Okay, being half-corporeal and half-ghosted for longer than a second or two is actually _incredibly_ uncomfortable. The door through your tail makes you feel like you’ve basically been cut in half. It’s not _painful_ per se, but there’s a spreading numbness creating the surreal sensation that your body is in two independent pieces.

But this is for Jade’s sake, so your school your face into perfect stoic blankness and ride it out. Every time you think you can’t stand it a second longer, you tighten your grip on Jade a little more and remind yourself how much she needs you right now.

John actually _paces_ outside the door, brow furrowed in intense thought. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him thinking so hard about something, and you’d ask him what it is but right now you’re _kinda_ distracted so you focus on keeping it together for Jade. Nanna doesn’t show any sign of discomfort and you’ll be _damned_ if a hundred-year-old woman beats you in a contest of endurance.

Finally, the door opens once more, and you relax in relief as you go fully tangible.

Jade stands there, wiping red-rimmed eyes with her sleeve. “Thanks, you two,” she whispers, and her voice is choked and thick.

John looks at her and seems to come to some kind of decision about whatever he was frowning over, because he sighs deeply. “This just isn’t _right_ ,” he mutters.

And then he steps forward, takes Jade’s chin in his hands, and lightly scent-marks her cheek with his wrist, his skin just brushing against hers.

It doesn’t remain a light mark for long, because Jade squeals and throws both arms around his neck and rubs herself against his face and jaw, pressing in so hard that she looks like she’s about to snap John’s head off. Her tail is wagging violently, slapping against the doorway of the bathroom she hasn’t _quite_ left.

John laughs and holds her tightly, pressing both of his wrist glands to the sides of her neck, where her mating glands are. Nanna smiles indulgently at the two of them, and leans in to rub her cheek on the back of Jade’s head. You feel your throat close up.

You’re Dave Strider. You don’t _get_ jealous.

Well… you’re _a_ Dave Strider, anyway. And regardless, you’re not jealous that Jade and John and Nanna are forming a pack right in front of your eyes. You’re _not_. You’re cool. You don’t need anybody.

Jade finally looks up from John’s neck. “You’re sure about this?” she whispers. “You really want to be pack?”

John grins. “You’re my _sister_ ,” he says. “I don’t know why we weren’t pack already!”

You’re not needed here, anymore. You turn and start to slink away, give the three of them a little space.

Before you get very far, John snaps his fingers and points at you like a dog. “Uh-uh-uh!” he says. “Where do you think you’re going, mister?”

You feel yourself tense up, and try not to let your shoulders rise. “I ‘unno,” you say, slurring the words deliberately.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, get over here,” he says, indicating the snugglefest he’s currently engaged in.

When you hesitate, you see something in his expression fall. “Unless… you don’t want to?” he says.

Hell, even if you _hadn’t_ already been dying to join this pack, the hurt look on his face would have convinced you in a heartbeat.

You move back over to them, and John grins, and Nanna smiles, and Jade hums something pleased-sounding and wags her tail even faster. You raise your hand, and pause, looking at them, because you’re really not sure what to do, how to start this…

John licks his lips, and then reaches out for you slowly, cupping the back of your head. You can’t actually prevent the way you freeze at the touch, stiffening, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He breathes out, draws your face close to his, and rubs his cheek against yours.

The warm Alpha scent of ham and bacon and woodsmoke sinks into your skin, and his glasses bump the edge of your shades with a slight click. Your breath stutters, and John pulls back, but before you have a second to recover, Jade surges upward, rubbing her face all over you and leaving her new Beta smell of greenery behind. Then Nanna’s hand cups your jaw, her wrist glands marking you with her Omega scent of cupcakes and lemon and butter.

You’re not crying. You’re _not_. Holy shit, keep it together, Dave.

And as they crowd near you, their scents merging with yours, their hands and noses buried in your feathers, you remember.

You remember that you’re not the Dave they _really_ want. You remember that you’re a useless piece of trash, and a _fake_ besides, and the instant they have a chance to make a pack with Real Dave they won’t think twice about leaving you in the dust.

But you can’t stop yourself from taking this, for as long as you can. You breathe in their scents and smell your own ripe strawberries on their skin, and it fills your heart to bursting, because you have a _pack_ again.

… at least for a little while.


	3. I'm Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's rut takes Davesprite by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this chapter in like two hours? it just came spilling out of me. possibly the easiest chapter of this series i've ever written. also probably one of my favorites. i keep re-reading it and thinking "yeah YEAH THAT'S IT."
> 
> fair warning: davesprite is experiencing an emotional flashback basically through this entire chapter.
> 
> this chapter also has a tickle-fight, which definitely has some creepy undertones. and uh. okay there's more info in the end notes but tl;dr: i'm not trying to set john up as a bad person _at all._

You’re floating through the halls of the ship, vaguely planning on making your way towards the kitchen to see what Nanna’s up to, when a half-familiar scent catches your nose and makes you stop. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, trying to place it.

After a second you realize it’s the lingering traces of John’s scent, that incredible blend of ham and bacon and woodsmoke that always makes your mouth start watering, but there’s something else, too, something you swear is familiar but don’t really recognize, something smoky and thick and dark.

Then warm arms embrace you from behind, and a face is pressed into the feathers of your neck. “Hi Dave,” says a deep voice, and your mind goes blank.

You recognize that musky odor now - it’s the smell of _rut_. Holy fuck, John is in _rut_ and he’s got his arms around you, and your brain is ringing every warning bell its got, telling you to go limp and soft and compliant, and let him do whatever he wants. You hold yourself very still, feel your breathing pick up the pace and wish you could quell it.

John makes a little displeased grunt, and you think _Alpha is angry at you_.

He lifts his head from your ruff and gently turns you around. A slight furrow creases his brow, the corners of his lips tilting down, and you don’t even know how you fucked up, you were just _standing_ here. Did you intrude on his territory? But you’re pack, aren’t you? Well, except Bro was your pack, too, and he definitely had territory he didn’t like you getting all up in, so maybe you crossed some line inadvertently.

John lifts his hand and you brace yourself for a blow, but he just gently pushes a lock of hair out of your face, rubbing his wrist gland against your temple as he does so, bathing you in the musky smell of rut.

“Dave?” he says. “Are you okay?”

A funny little jolt goes through you when you realize he didn’t call you Dave _Sprite_. You don’t know whether you’re happy or upset about it.

“I’m fine,” you say, instead of addressing the thing about your name.

John frowns a little deeper and you hide a wince. He reaches up once again to touch your hair. His other hand rests firmly on your waist and you really, really don’t know what to do with all this physical contact when there’s a smoky, musky rut scent flooding your nostrils. You’re pretty sure you’re about to vibrate right out of your skin.

“Really?” John says, as he smooths your hair back again. “You don’t smell fine.”

Jesus, you hate your fucking narc of a scent. Going around telling everybody how you _actually_ feel all the damn time is an act of betrayal akin to Scar murdering Mufasa. Long live the king, your scent says, and throws you off the cliff, and now your emotions are raging all over the place, trampling you like wildebeest.

“You smell different,” you say, deflecting like a boss.

John chuckles and shrugs, trailing the hand in your hair down your cheek and jaw until it’s half-buried in your feathers, scent-marking you the whole way. “Yeah, rut, you know how it is,” he says. “I might get a little clingy, sorry.”

You gesture, somewhat stiffly, to the hands at your neck and hip. “Gee, I couldn’t tell,” you say, hoping you come across as dry and acerbic as you normally do.

John snorts in reply, so you think you managed it. Then he leans forward and quickly presses his cheek to yours, before turning with you to look towards the kitchen. His arm is still around your waist.

"Have you seen Jade or Nanna yet today?" he says. There's something in his tone you don't recognize, almost like an edge of desperation. 

"No, not since last night," you say.

John flashes you a look, but whatever it is he's trying to impart, you're not in on the secret. "Let's go find them," he says.

His hand finally leaves your waist only to catch your wrist instead, pulling you along as he strides down the hallway towards the kitchen. He keeps running his thumb back and forth over your wrist gland, stimulating it to produce more scent. You’re starting to smell like a fucking strawberry sundae.

Soon, you’re in the kitchen, and you’re relieved to see both Nanna _and_ Jade there, chatting over what looks like either a cookbook or a science textbook, or maybe both. You don’t want to see how upset John might have gotten if he didn’t find them right away.

Beside you, John beams and goes to envelop Jade and his Nanna in a tight embrace, except he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you get dragged along. In seconds, you’re all jumbled together in a weird awkward group-hug, your chest pressed against Jade’s back, your chin on Nanna’s shoulder, John’s thumb still rubbing your wrist. John rubs his face over Jade and Nanna like a cat loving up on its favorite humans.

Jade laughs and sniffs and wags her tail, whacking you in the stomach. “Hey,” she says. “Are you in rut, John?”

In response, John grabs her shoulders ( _finally_ letting go of you), and rubs his face all over her, not stopping until she starts giggling. “Yup,” he declares, and then moves his hands to her armpits and suddenly, the group hug transforms itself into a tickle fight.

You peel away as Jade and John start rolling over and over each other on the ground, and with Jade’s doggy tail and John’s relentless enthusiasm, you’re reminded of videos you’ve seen of golden retriever puppies.

You sidle up to Nanna, who, to your surprise, puts her arm around you. She reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face, just like John did mere _minutes_ ago, and the similarity of that gesture makes something like _longing_ pang through you, because oh, she must have done this to John’s Dad, and then John’s Dad did this to him, which makes this basically like a family tradition.

The only family tradition you ever had is getting your ass beat to hell and back on the rooftop every fucking day. That and bending yourself over the arm of the futon with your pants around your ankles the first day of Bro’s rut, to convince him to fuck you the way you wanted.

The memories make you shudder, and Nanna frowns at you as she finishes brushing your hair back. “Is everything all right, Dave, dear?” she says with tender concern, placing her wrist against your jaw to scent-mark you.

You roll your eyes. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” you say. “I’m fine.” Your words don’t seem to reassure her.

Deliberately, you turn away from her to watch Jade and John’s little wrestling match. John is on top, having pinned Jade to the floor, and is tickling her mercilessly.

Jade, out of breath, keeps giggling, “No, _stop_ , John, please don’t, stop-!”

John only cackles. “Don’t stop? Okay then, I won’t stop!” and Jade shrieks with laughter as he redoubles his assault.

_No, Bro, stop, please don’t -_

_You really want me to stop? You really want me to stand up right now and leave you here all alone?_

_Yeah. That’s what I thought._

Suddenly you feel like you’re going to be violently sick. “I gotta go,” you mutter to Nanna, and then you _sprint_ for the door, working your wings to give you that extra boost of speed.

You’re halfway out the door when the sound of a deep Alpha growl makes you falter. The next thing you know, there are hands on your shoulders, and then John’s whole body weight lands on you, and you drop, pinned to the floor underneath him, his legs on either side of you. You lie there like a statue as he sits above you, breathing hard, and even _you_ can smell the sourness of fear in your scent.

John’s looks down at you with furious intensity that pins you just as effectively as his hands do. Then, a second later, his eyes widen and he rears back, looking ashamed of himself.

“Fuck, fuck, sorry, fucking chase drive,” he says, standing up and offering a hand to you. “Are you okay? I seriously didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry.”

You take his hand, let him draw you close, trying to calm your ragged breathing. He lightly scent-marks the top of your head as he pulls you to his chest, his other arm wrapping around your wings and shoulders.

“Hey,” he says, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you, I’m here. I won’t let anything hurt you, Dave. I’m sorry for scaring you.” He almost seems more upset than you are.

Over his shoulder, you can see Jade tentatively creeping up, her ears laid back against her head with worry. “Are you okay, Dave?” she says.

You really can’t say “I’m fine” again when you’re so blatantly _not_ fine. Fuck.

It has to be so incredibly obvious what happened to you, right? Why else would you freak out and run from your pack Alpha when he’s in rut? Why else would you quiver and fawn in his arms if someone _hadn’t_ gone and made you into a slut? Surely this demonstrates just how broken and worthless you are.

Also everyone keeps calling you _Dave_ , and yeah, that’s your name, but it also kind of makes you feel like an imposter.

When you don’t answer her question, Jade comes closer and, inserting herself under John’s arm, rubs her face against your chest. John slightly loosens his grip on you, so that she has enough space to snuggle in.

“Why don’t we all go to the sitting room?” says Nanna.

So you do. Neither John nor Jade let go of you on the way, and by the time you’ve made it, you feel like a dumb baby who’s peed his diapers cuz of a _scawy nightmawe._

“I’m fine,” you say, again, but everyone ignores you.

As soon as you get there, Nanna goes about collecting up pillows and blankets and dumping them on the couch. She’s so clearly building a nest, building a nest for _you_ , that it makes you feel stupid and small and ashamed.

Meanwhile, Jade has started just… tidying up. She’s organizing books and putting away the game controllers and decaptchalogues a cleaning spray and a rag to wipe down and sanitize surfaces.

John still hasn’t let go of you.

“Guys,” you say. “I don’t need this. Please. This shit’s embarrassing.”

John strokes your wing, half-smiling. “It’s not just for you,” he says. “I’m in rut so I’m a little stressed out, too. This way we can all be somewhere safe and together.”

You bite your lip and watch Nanna as she rearranges pillows. “Can I at least _help?”_ you ask.

John laughs and finally lets you go, and you move to the couch. Nanna smiles at you when you pick up a pillow, and you help her build a nest, although compared to her you’re a super shitty nest-builder, since your idea of a “nest” is basically just “a pile of fucking blankets,” and Nanna’s really good at placing and arranging things so there’s structural support and stuff.

It’s also a much bigger nest than you’re used to building - but then again, it’s built to accommodate four people easily, instead of just you and sometimes your Bro.

When it’s done, you and Nanna both settle down into the nest. She arranges herself so that her shoulder is a perfect pillow for you to lean against, and when you do so, she cups your face with her hand. Seconds later, Jade crawls in with you and rests her head in your lap.

You watch John and he spends a minute walking around the borders of the room, pressing his hand against the wall every now and then to scent-mark it, and rubbing his face against the doorways. You remember your Bro doing something similar, although for some reason, where Bro’s demeanor always screamed, “This is my fucking territory, get the fuck out,” John’s posture seems to say, “This is my pack’s space, which I’m going to protect.”

It’s probably a meaningless distinction, but the thought does help you to relax.

When John joins you in the nest, he rests his head on Nanna’s lap and puts an arm around Jade. He doesn’t touch you at all, just smiles at you, and that calms you enough that most of the rest of the tension leaves your body.

The four of you lie there for hours, just chatting. You don’t say much, because despite how nice and relaxed and _familial_ this feels, there’s a tiny part of you that’s still on edge, because John smells like musk and rut, and you keep waiting for the moment where he bends you over a chair and fucks you raw. Not that you've got anything for him _to_ fuck, but you're a little jumpy nonetheless.

As time goes on, John says less and less, as well, resorting to hums and nods instead of full responses, until it’s mostly just Jade and Nanna carrying the conversation. Finally he stands and stretches, and is it just you, or is he tenting a little bit in his god-tier jammies? Your mouth goes dry and tense anticipation fills your body.

He very deliberately scent-marks Jade and Nanna, rubbing his jaw against their heads. When he comes towards you, you feel half-petrified, and you know you will give in, you will do whatever he wants you to do for him.

John takes your chin in his hand, and then he scent-marks the top of your head, the same way he’d done for Nanna and Jade, and stands.

“All right,” he says, and yeah, he’s _definitely_ chubbing up under those pjs, fuck. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”

“We won’t!” Jade says. Then she waggles her eyebrows. “Have _fun_.” Nanna smothers a laugh.

John rolls his eyes, and then turns, and walks out the door towards his bedroom, scent-marking the door frame on the way.

Jade and Nanna resume their conversation, chatting animatedly about whatever they had been talking about before John left, but you keep watching the door he disappeared down, your heart thrumming in your chest.

So… John’s not interested in fucking you. He’s _not_ going to drag you to your room and order you to strip and kneel on the bed and knot you. He’s apparently just gonna go wank alone in his room, while you all wait for him out here.

You can’t actually decide if you’re relieved or disappointed about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's the thing about tickling and consent:
> 
> consent is _routinely_ ignored in western cultures, when it comes to tickling.
> 
> like, the exact phrasing up there, that i had jade use? "no, please don't, stop?"
> 
> i _frequently_ had "oh, don't stop? okay, i won't!" pulled on me as a kid.
> 
> i'm not saying this is a good thing! consent is fucking important and continuing to touch someone after they've told you to stop is a violation, full stop. 
> 
> but i'm _also_ saying there's probably a lot of people who wouldn't - and _don't_ \- know this, if they haven't been exposed to dialogue around bodily consent. a lot of people haven't had that conversation about how important consent is in _any_ context, not just a sexual one.
> 
> so basically, what i'm saying here is, john isn't willfully being a horrible person here, he just. doesn't actually realize that tickling someone like that is actually a pretty bad thing to do.
> 
> also fair warning: john is probably gonna look like kinda a huge dick for a lot of this series? that's almost _entirely_ due to the fact that all our main pov characters have traumatic experiences involving alphas and/or rut, which means that john's mere _existence_ can sometimes be a little triggering for them. please believe me when i say i love john, he's one of my favorite characters, and he's not being an _intentional_ dillhole.


	4. Below the Belt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite realizes he's not having heats anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOMESTUCK DAY, EVERYBODY. (okay, technically it's not 4/13 in my time zone for another hour and 45 minutes, but FUCK IT, IT'S MIDNIGHT SOMEWHERE!)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! I sure enjoyed writing it.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Oblique discussion of genitalia, mild emotional flashback.

So apparently, there is one big upside to becoming part bird and all game construct and completely losing the lower half of your body.

You don’t have heats anymore.

It’s been a little over six months since your last heat, which was in your original doomed timeline, about two and a half months after you first entered the game, at least to your own personal perception of time. You should have had another heat back at the beginning of June, if you’d been on your regular schedule.

It is now early September, and you haven’t even felt even a _spark_ of pain from your mating glands this whole time.

In some ways, it makes sense that you don’t have heats anymore. You don’t have a dick or a vagina anymore. Where would you release slick from, exactly? How would you take a knot? And why would Sburb let a game construct reproduce? What would you even _make_ if you did reproduce with someone? What on earth would a half-bird-boy-sprite even look like?

On the other hand, it’s not like you’ve stopped having an endocrine system entirely. Your mating glands are still there, even if they’re buried under feathers, so you’ve still got some aspects of Omega biology. Your scent still smells like strawberries and honey and whipped cream, despite everything else that’s changed. Why would the game preserve _that_ , if it didn’t care about you reproducing?

Whatever the case, the upshot of it all is that you apparently don’t have heats anymore.

You’re not entirely sure whether John or Jade have noticed. You think Nanna knows, but only because she’s also a sprite and an Omega, so she’s probably dealing with the same thing.

Actually, scratch that, she’s like a bazillion years old, she probably went through menopause back before color television was a thing.

You still think Nanna knows, if only because you’re pretty sure she’s a hell of a lot more perceptive than she lets on.

At least, you _weren’t_ sure whether John or Jade had noticed, up until today.

The ship is pretty massive, but it can still get cramped, so sometimes Jade shrinks the four of you down to miniature size and you all camp out in one of your houses for a little while. Last week, you were all strolling around Jade’s tropical island and the massive volcano - this week, you’re hanging out at John’s place on its tall windy precipice.

(You never hang out at your apartment. You’ve convinced everyone that it’s way too small and cramped for all four of you - plus Jaspers - to spend that long living there. Which is true, but doesn’t actually touch on the real reason, which is that every second you spend in that space you’re waiting for your Bro to pounce on you.)

This particular afternoon, you’re camping out on John’s sofa, doodling in an empty sketchbook you alchemized a few weeks ago, after filling two. You’ve been getting a lot more serious about your art lately - working on new pages of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, for sure, but also tossing around some new ideas, and even occasionally trying out some life drawing.

Jade wanders past you, and at first you don’t pay her any mind, figuring she’s just heading right on through. But then she stops in the middle of the living room and turns, her brow furrowing deeply, scent changing to admit a touch of sour worry.

You look up immediately. “What?” you say. “What’s wrong?”

Jade’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Dave, are you… feeling okay?”

As it always does, your stomach does a funny little twist when she calls you _Dave_ , with no qualifiers attached. You’d think that, after almost four months of this, you would have gotten used to it by now, but for whatever reason, you really, really _haven’t_.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, now thoroughly confused. “Why?”

Jade plops down onto the floor in front of the couch, criss-cross applesauce, her ears pointing slightly backward with agitation but her eyes wide and trained on you. “It’s just…” she says. “I’m pretty sure you should have had a heat by now, right? And, well. Delayed or skipped heats really aren’t a good sign, Dave.”

You blink at her for a moment, even though she can’t see your eyes through your shades, and then you gesture at your long sprite tail, which is currently dangling over the arm of the couch and resting on the floor.

“Jade,” you say, still pointing. “Do you see this?”

“What, your tail?” she says, frowning.

“Do you remember why I can’t fucking eat anything?” you say, patiently.

Jade nods. “Because your digestive system is incomplete, now, because sprite anatomy isn’t like human anatomy.”

“Yeah, so, if I don’t even have anything as basic as _intestines_ anymore, what the _fuck_ makes you think I’d have a uterus?”

Jade brightens perceptibly, her ears perking up. “Oh, duh, of course!” she says. “I really should have thought of that.”

However, after half a second, her face falls back into a confused frown again. “Wait,” she says slowly. “If you don’t have any human anatomy below the waist then does that mean you don’t -”

Then her mouth clamps shut and a mortified blush covers her face. To your horror, you feel a similar heat coming to your own cheeks.

Because this is _Jade_ , and she’s fucking _gorgeous_ , and you’ve had a crush on her since you were a teeny tiny little Daveling, and she’s asking about the parts of your body that are _below the waist,_ and Christ, this is the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

“I mean, uh,” you say, eloquent as always. “Not, not - no? Yeah, I don’t. Um.”

Jade isn’t looking you in the eye, but then, you’re not looking at her either, your gaze trained somewhere on the wall behind her.

“God, forget I ever asked,” Jade says, burying her face in her hands. “It’s none of my business, I’m so sorry, that was _such_ a stupid question, I’ll go now.” She stands up.

You sit up and reach for her hand, because yeah, you’re embarrassed, but like. Come on.

“It’s not a stupid question,” you say. “It’s - I mean, it’s a logical, y’know, continuation of the train of thought and all.”

“I wished I’d gotten off at the last station,” Jade mutters, but she doesn’t leave, and doesn’t pull her hand out of yours.

“Well,” you say, rubbing your thumb against her wrist and inhaling the little bursts of green grassy smell that release as you stimulate the gland there, tinged by embarrassment. “I mean. Thanks for noticing? About the heat thing. For caring about it.”

Jade tilts her head. “Of course I care,” she says. “You could have been really sick or something.”

Your throat closes with an emotion you can’t name, and the two of you sit there in silence for a minute. You realize quickly that you’ve been holding onto her hand for way too long, and pull back. The awkward quiet is starting to get to you and you open your mouth to start babbling something _completely_ inane and probably even more mortifying than what you’ve already said, but then Jade speaks up first.

“Is it hard?” she says, quietly. “Being a sprite?”

You can’t help the way your mouth turns down in a little frown. “Don’t you remember?” you say.

Jade shrugs, her ears laying back a bit on her head. “I mean, yeah, I remember kinda? But the memories are a little vague, and I was only a sprite for a couple hours. I didn’t even have a chance to really notice the anatomy-related stuff. You’ve been dealing with all of that for a lot longer than one day.”

You try not to squirm uncomfortably at the question. “I mean, it’s fine,” you say. “You get used to it.”

Jade tilts her head in thought, fixing you with her intense green eyes. “Humans can get used to a lot of things,” she says. “That doesn’t always mean that it’s all okay.”

You shrug and glance away from her again, curling up so that you take up less space. “Well, in this case, it’s okay,” you say, lamely, even though it’s really, really not.

Jade sighs and sits down beside you on the couch, her leg brushing against your tail. The casual touch makes your heart thump. It’s ridiculous, how you can cuddle with the whole pack practically every week in gigantic snuggle piles, and yet these tiny points of contact at random moments still make you want to fucking swoon like a tight-corseted Victorian Omega collapsing onto her fainting couch because she caught a glimpse of a wealthy Alpha gentleman’s ankle.

Then Jade makes it simultaneously better and worse by flopping her head down onto your shoulder. You raise a wing instinctively, curling protectively around her. She rubs her cheek against you, and the fresh scent-mark washes over you like a cleansing wave of green.

At least she’s not _looking_ at you anymore.

“Would you tell us, if things weren’t okay?” Jade says. “Would you tell _me?”_

God, you’ve never felt so fucking guilty in your life.

“I’d tell you,” you lie. “Of course I’d tell you, Jade, you’re my best friend.”

Jade hums in thought. “I know you’re not really him,” she says, and your heart clenches with the reminder of your inferior status. “But the other Dave… he didn’t tell me he was going to die. He didn’t warn me or talk to me about it or anything. He just… let it happen. Acted like he was fine the whole time.”

You swallow. “I mean, speaking from experience, stable time loops are a bitch and a half to maintain,” you say. “He might not have had a choice about it.”

“Sure. That makes it easier, doesn’t it, when the Alpha timeline dictates that things had to go that way anyway?” Jade says, her voice uncharacteristically calm and flat.

Oh _fuck_.

You struggle to keep yourself from shaking, wrapping your arm across your body as if you can somehow hold yourself down by the hip. Deep-rooted fear lances through you at the terrifyingly familiar tone of voice, and you wonder if she’ll be able to smell the sudden change in your scent. Your mouth is drier than a Houston sidewalk on a hot day in August.

Jade’s never been a _threat_ in your mind before.

“I swear I’ll tell you if things aren’t okay,” you say, because that’s what she wants to hear, that’s what she’s upset with you about. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Jade, I fucking promise.”

She sighs heavily and reaches across your body. For half a second you freeze, trapped in her arms, certain that the punishment for your obvious deceit will be swift and merciless. You feel very stupid when you finally realize that she’s trying to give you a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Jade murmurs into your skin. “It’s probably hard for you to talk about timeline stuff, huh.”

You exhale slowly and curl an arm around her shoulders, along with your wing. You press your wrist gland to the edge of her shoulder. “It’s fine,” you say. “It’s not a big deal.”

She shakes her head, rubbing her cheeks across your skin and scent marking you in the process. “I’m still sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up.”

“Jade,” you say, but you can’t think of anything else.

The two of you sit there on the couch for a while, her arms wrapped around you, your wing covering her. Eventually, you start to stroke her hair with your hand, and her tail begins to wag. You scritch her behind her little doggy ears and she lets out a pleased noise and snuggles closer to you.

You shouldn’t get used to this, because it’s not going to last. Even if she never figures out just what a fucking mess you are, eventually you’ll make it to the new session, and then she’ll want to hang out with the _real_ Dave. She won’t have time for a leftover game construct like you.

But you can’t stop yourself from taking comfort in the steady thump-thump-thump of her tail.


	5. Crushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite is pretty sure Jade has a crush on him, and he's not sure what to do about it. Nanna offers some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the most trouble I have writing this fic is that I find Jade very difficult to write, and writing her from Davesprite's perspective is even more difficult, because he frequently misinterprets her reasons for things. This means her thought processes are doubly obscured for me - first just because _I_ have trouble understanding her, and second because Davesprite has trouble understanding her.
> 
> Also uh... holy shit this when did this fic series pass 70k???? When did I find the time to write and post seventy THOUSAND words of content??? I did the math and the chapters I have written but not posted yet add another 25k on top of that and I have almost 9k in scenes I cut from the story because they didn't fit anymore when I rearranged the timeline but kept in case I could use parts of it later. What the fuck. That’s so much more writing than I’ve done for anything EVER. How did this happen? How is this even possible? I don't write longfic like this!! I’m so confused.
> 
> No major warnings for this chapter, although please note I added the relationship tag Davesprite & Nannasprite, as well as the content tag Crying. (All my fics should have the Crying tag lmao).

You’re pretty sure Jade has a crush on you.

Correction: you’re pretty sure Jade has a crush on Dave Strider.

You’re not really sure you count, anymore.

You’ve known about this for a while. Back before the game even began, you had a feeling the two of you were hurtling toward something. Maybe not a full fledged long-distance relationship, because Bro would absolutely have murdered you if he found out you’d gotten romantically involved with anyone, the jealous son of a bitch, but _something_. Some confession, some moment of connection, some acknowledgment of what had been floating between you. Just. Something.

But that feeling of breathless anticipation kinda got put on hold once the game began. For god’s sake, you spent four months in a timeline where she was dead. There hasn’t really been a lot of time for fucking _romance_.

Besides, you’re not the real Dave. You’re random backup Bird Dave, who wasn’t even supposed to stick around after the game was over. Granted, they haven’t technically beaten the game yet, but the basic mechanics aren’t really in play anymore. You are superfluous.

You’re starting to think that maybe Jade hasn’t realized that you’re not the same person as the Dave she has feelings for.

Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Maybe, to her, you’re close enough.

Either way, the tension between the two of you has been steadily growing. When the two of you are together, Jade is always awkward and blushing. She smiles at you even when there’s nothing to smile about. She laughs harder at your jokes than even _you_ think they really warrant. You always seem to catch her brushing curls of hair shyly out of her face and watching you from the corner of her eye.

You’re really not sure what to do about it.

Mostly, you’ve started avoiding her.

Which you don’t _want_ to do, because you love hanging out with Jade, and your own crush on her drives you _stupid_. But you can’t stand the tension, the anticipation, the _expectancy_ , because you just don’t know where the dice are going to fall.

Besides, you’re still waiting for her and John to finally figure out what a screw-up of a whore you are.

So today, when Jade and John decided they wanted to go down to Jade’s planet to play around with some of the consorts and the frogs, you declined the invitation to come with. It hurt to see the looks on their faces - Jade’s especially - but you just can’t sustain that much emotional investment for so long.

Instead you’re curled up on a couch, messing around with a laptop and headphones, trying to find a good mix for something.

You’re not expecting anyone to bother you, so you’re startled when Nanna sits down beside you, holding a pair of mugs, one in her hand and the other tucked into her elbow.

She smiles as you close the laptop and take the headphones off. “Mug of tea?” she says, offering one to you. You take it, because it looks incredibly difficult to hold both at once with just one arm.

You stare down into the mug instead of meeting Nanna’s eyes. “Thanks, but uh,” you say, trying to figure out how to word this without being rude. “I’m not really super psyched about puking this up later so uh, I think I’ll pass?”

Nanna laughs. “Hoo hoo! No, I don’t fancy it myself,” she says. “I like to hold the mugs, sometimes, and smell the tea. Warms the body up, tea does, even if you don’t drink it.”

You wrap both of your hands around the mug. It _is_ warm, and as you lean in to take a sniff, the floral scent hits your nose, soft and gentle. Your eyes well up with tears before you even consciously register why.

It smells like Rose.

And then you’re crying, curling over a cup of fucking tea with tears streaking down your cheeks, shuddering silently. You hear the sound of Nanna setting down her mug, and then she wraps her arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s just… this is what Rose smelled like.”

“You miss her,” Nanna says. It’s not a question.

You swipe tears away with the back of your hand, and lean in further to Nanna. Her soft Omega scent, lemon cupcakes and buttercream frosting, washes over you, mingling with the smell of the tea.

Nanna’s the only person on this whole damn ship who doesn’t - _can’t_ \- associate you with someone you’re not. She never met Original Flavor Dave. She’s not comparing you, in her head, to someone you can never live up to. Which makes her the only person who doesn’t care who you _used_ to be - just who you are now.

“Fuck yeah I miss her,” you admit, turning your head to hide your face in Nanna’s shoulder. “It was just her and me for _months_. And then I had to go back, and… my Rose merged with the real Rose. Which means, she doesn’t really exist anymore.”

You almost choke on your tears when you say, “I’m all alone.”

Nanna wraps her sprite tail around you like another arm, curling around your wings, and rubs her jaw along the top of your head to scent-mark you. You just huddle around yourself and lean into her, letting the tears fall, your own tail practically tied in knots.

“You’re not alone, Dave,” Nanna says. “You have your pack. You have John and Jade and me. We’re not going to leave you.”

You let her gentle reassurances comfort you. Eventually your tears subside, and you sit staring down into the mug of tea that sparked the whole thing.

“What flavor is this?” you say, swirling it around and taking in that scent that smells so _much_ like Rose. “I never got the chance to ask Rose what kind of flower she was.”

“Lavender,” Nanna says. “It’s lavender tea.”

You snort. “So Rose wasn’t a rose after all? Kinda a bad name, then, huh.”

Nanna chuckles. “Well, parents can’t know how their children will turn out.”

The two of you sit there for a while in silence, as you contemplate the tea. It’s surprisingly cozy, and, instead of feeling wrung out and exhausted from your cry like you usually do, you just feel kind of… soft. Or maybe like you purged some kind of poison from your system.

“So,” Nanna says brightly, removing her arm from your shoulders to pick up her own mug of tea. “Talk to me.”

“What about?” you say.

Nanna looks you in the eye, and you somehow feel that she really is looking straight through your shades into your eyes. There’s a twinkle of intelligence in her own.

“Why don’t we talk about Jade?” she says.

“What about Jade?” you say, a touch too fast, too defensively.

Nanna just raises her eyebrows and smirks at you. You can practically hear the “Hoo hoo!” without her having to say it.

You sigh. “I don’t know what to do,” you admit, running a hand through your hair.

“You like her,” Nanna says, and once more, it’s not a question. You seem to be as transparent as glass to Nanna, and you don’t know whether you’re frustrated that she can see through you so easily, or glad that you don’t have to go through the agony of actually explaining how you feel.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed yet,” Nanna continues, “Jade really likes you, too.”

“She likes _Dave,_ ” you say, a little bitterly.

Nanna dips her head so that one of the dangly things bops you on the nose. “She likes _you_ ,” Nanna says. “You’re Dave.”

You don’t know how to explain to her that you’re really not. It’s true that she doesn’t have the Real Dave to compare you to, and it’s nice not having to deal with that bias, but that means she also doesn’t really understand what it’s like. She doesn’t know just how easy it is to conflate the two of you, how much Jade and John project their ideas of the _other_ Dave onto you. You know they do.

You know that Jade isn’t really attracted to _you_ so much as the _idea_ of you.

When you don’t respond, Nanna sighs exasperatedly and uses her sprite tail to rock your shoulders gently. “I think you should go for it,” Nanna says. “Ask her out.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you say. “If it doesn’t work out… that’d make living in close quarters like this really uncomfortable.”

Nanna sets her mug down and settles her hand on your arm. “What makes you so sure it wouldn’t work out?”

Because you’re a pathetic Omega whore who begged his own brother to fuck him. Because you’re the leftover, the backup, the replacement, and you’re never going to measure up to the real thing. Because Jade deserves so much more than you.

Because you’re never allowed to be happy.

You don’t say any of that. You just sigh, and rest your head on Nanna’s shoulder, and change the subject.

The whole rest of the day, you can’t get that conversation out of your head. Yeah, okay, Jade doesn’t really like you, but she _thinks_ she does. Dating her would make her happy, at least until she found out just what a fuck-up you are and dumped your ass. And what’s more, _you’d_ enjoy it, because you’d get to be with Jade, if only for a little while.

On the other hand, you can’t help but feel that it would be morally wrong to lead her on like that, when you know you’re not the Dave she really wants.

You’re still focused on the problem later that evening, lying in the nest you’ve built on your bed and staring up at the ceiling. You’re so lost in your thoughts you almost don’t hear the soft rapping of knuckles on your door.

“Coming,” you call, stretching your wings and floating over to the door. You open it, honestly expecting to see a consort who’s lost their plushie or something, so it’s a shock to see Jade standing in the hallway.

“Jade,” you say, blinking. “Hey. What’s up?”

Jade smiles nervously at you and fidgets with a piece of her hair. Her ears keep sort of flicking back and forth between upright and laid back, like she can’t decide how to feel. She licks her lips and tilts her head to the side.

“Hi, Dave,” she says. “How are you doing?”

Your heart is in your throat. The sense of expectancy that’s been sitting between the two of you for weeks - _months_ \- feels like it’s finally reached a peak. Your tongue feels heavy and dead in your mouth.

“I’m doing pretty good,” you say. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Jade says.

“Good,” you say, nodding a little too much.

You’re staring. You know you’re staring but you don’t know what to do about it. Jade doesn’t seem to know what to do either, and just stares blankly right back at you.

Finally, you find your words.

“Do you want to come in?” you say.

Jade blinks, and then her ears prick up. “Oh,” she says. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.”

You float to one side so that Jade can come into your room, which makes you realize, gee, you don’t think Jade has ever been in here?

Now that you think about it, you don’t think anyone other than you has been in here.

You’re suddenly very self-conscious about the piles of dirty shirts and random junk scattered all over the place, but you’re not gonna go frantically trying to tidy up because that would just make you look stupid.

Jade glances around. “Your room is nice,” she offers, sounding polite. “It’s cozy.”

“Yeah, well,” you say.

You stare at each other some more.

“Do you want to sit down?” you finally say. “I could move that stack of paper off the desk chair, or we could sit on my bed, I don’t mind, it’s not like you have cooties or something.”

“I’m fine standing,” Jade says, still playing with her hair.

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Good.”

The awkwardness is _excruciatingly_ painful. Your feathers would probably hang suspended in the air right now, the tension between you two is so thick.

You can’t help but feel that you both know why she’s here, but neither of you can seem to broach the subject.

Then Jade sighs almost explosively, like she’s purging whatever emotion has been pent up inside her. She closes her eyes, eyebrows lowering and scrunching together, and takes in a deep breath. When she opens them again, she’s looking at you with a steely gaze of pure determination.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m gonna just say it. Dave, I like you a whole lot. I have for a long time now, and I think…” She trails off for a second, looking nervous, and then she gets that hard look in her eyes and plows on again. “I think that maybe you’ve felt the same way? So I was thinking…”

Jade swallows, her eyes flicking up to your face and then away again. “I was thinking…” You see the blush color her cheeks, the way her tail is starting to tuck between her legs, how her ears are pinned flat against her head, and you _know_ , you just know, that she won’t be able to do it. She won’t be able to actually say it.

So you say it for her.

“Jade,” you blurt out. “Do you want to go out with me?”

Jade looks taken aback for a second, and then she can’t contain the relieved laughter. Her tail starts to wag, and her ears prick up and forward, and she lifts a hand to her mouth as if it can cover up her giggles.

It’s contagious, that laugh, and a few snickers of your own escape, even as you try to keep them in. That only makes Jade giggle harder, which makes it impossible for you to hold back anymore, and then suddenly you’re both cracking up.

Jade clutches her sides and bends over, still laughing. “I’m sorry!” she says. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear, I’m really not!”

“I know!” you say. “I know.”

You both start to subside, taking in deep, calming breaths. But then Jade catches your eye again, with a badly-suppressed smirk, and that sets the two of you off again, howling with laughter. You can’t fucking breathe, you’re laughing so hard, and you can’t remember the last time you smiled like this.

It takes _ages_ for you to both get your giggles under control. When you finally do, and you aren’t making accidental eye contact and starting each other up again, Jade straightens, still holding her side.

“Ow,” she says. “That _hurt_. I haven’t laughed like that in forever.”

“Me neither,” you say.

Jade grins at you, and her tail is still wagging. “As for your question,” she says, “Yes, Dave, I’d love to go out with you.”

The rush of warmth that fills you is the best thing you’ve felt in ages. No matter what happens, this was worth it just for that.

“Saturday night?” you suggest. “We could… I dunno, wander through the flowers on LOFAF?”

Jade nods. “I’d like that.”

You stand there beaming at each other like dorks for _entirely_ too long.

“Okay, well,” Jade says. “I should go. I’ll see you Saturday?”

“I mean, probably before then, given our schedules,” you say. “But yeah, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“I’ll pick you up at your room,” Jade says, hand on the door handle. “After all, I’m the one with the transportation powers.”

She flashes another grin at you, and then leaves, letting the door slide shut.

God, you’re an eternal pessimist, but you still can’t fucking _wait_ for Saturday.


	6. Dating Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Davesprite is getting ready for his date with Jade, John stops by and offers some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass, but I think it turned out pretty good nevertheless.
> 
> Also, I've been posting one chapter of a fic in this series every three days, or about twice a week, for a little while now. I'm considering switching to actual twice-a-week updates on specific days. Right now I'm thinking Mondays and Thursdays, but I'm not super attached to that, so if you have an opinion, please let me know!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: None.

You feel like a walking cliche, floating in the middle of your room and dithering about what to wear to your first date.

This is stupid. You can’t even wear fucking _pants_. The choice is between one of like five different shirts and whether or not to wear a suit jacket. You’ve already ruled out the full suit and bowtie, because number one, _way_ too formal for wandering around a jungle (and a first date), and number two, you can’t actually wear the _full_ suit. You spend most of your life looking like Donald fucking Duck anyway, you don’t need to draw attention to your pantless lower half.

You’re floating there shirtless, staring down at your options with your bottom lip between your teeth, when there’s a knock at your door.

Your first thought is, _Holy fuck it’s Jade, she’s already here and I’m not even fucking dressed._ Your second thought is, _Wait, I should have at least forty-five minutes before Jade shows up, it’s not even 4:30 yet._

“Who is it?” you call out, because if it’s Jade you’ll grab a shirt at random and just go for it, and if it’s one of the consorts you’ll ignore it.

“It’s John,” comes the answer, and your stomach feels like it just dropped out of your body.

You snatch up a shirt off the bed and pull it on, because you’re not answering the door for John while you’re fucking _naked_. Not even though you don’t have anything you’d need to hide.

When you’re decent (or at least your chest is covered), you go and open the door.

John grins at you, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his god-tier jammies. It’s a brilliant, exuberant smile, entirely trained on you, and it still makes you feel weak at the knees, even though you don’t actually have knees anymore.

“Hey,” you say.

“‘Sup,” he says, and the repetition of your fucking meme shouldn’t make your heart clench with affection.

“What are you doing here, man?” you say. “You don’t usually hang out in this part of the ship.”

His grin gets even brighter, a feat you would not have even thought possible if you weren’t seeing it happen in front of your eyes. “Well, a little bird told me you’ve got a date with Jade tonight,” he says, voice suffused with pure fucking glee.

You feel your face heating up as a blush colors your cheeks, and you kind of hate yourself for it. “Yeah, so?” you say. “You here to give me the shovel talk? Warn me not to break your sister’s heart?

Which you’re pretty sure you’re inevitably going to do anyway, but it can’t hurt to know the exact amount of pain you’re gonna be in for when it happens.

“Pff, are you kidding me?” John says, waving a hand casually. “I’m here to say it’s about damn time, dude!”

“What?” you say, trying to keep the consternation out of your voice.

“Man, you and Jade have been dancing around each other for _ages,_ ” he says. “To be honest, it was getting a little uncomfortable whenever I was between the two of you. I’m glad you’ve finally figured yourselves out.”

"Were we really that obvious?" The question comes out a little bit more sheepish than you’d intended.

“Uh, _yeah_ , dude,” John says, still grinning. “Like, since you were eleven.”

Damn. That’s just about when you realized that the warm fluttery feeling you got whenever you talked to Jade was actually a crush. And here you thought you were playing it cool. But if John “Captain Oblivious” Egbert noticed, you must have been screaming it from the rooftops and flashing a neon fucking sign.

The thought occurs, suddenly, that your crush on _him_ might have been just as obvious.

“Do you wanna come in?” you say, instead of addressing that horrifying possibility.

John nods and steps inside, glancing around your room. When his gaze lands on your bed, where your other shirts are still splayed out in a messy spray of colors, you feel yourself blushing again.

“I, uh, I was having trouble deciding what to wear,” you say, sheepishly. Fuck, you might as well have a fluffy wooly coat instead of feathers. Hang a bell around your neck and call up Bo Peep, cuz this little lamb’s gotten out of control.

John doesn’t make fun of you though - he just shrugs. “I’d offer to help, but I don’t know anything about fashion,” he says. “You need Rose for that.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both reflect on the fact that it’s been literal months since either of you have seen Rose.

God, you miss your sister so bad sometimes you can barely breathe.

John clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, like I said, I’m no expert,” he says. “But I do have one piece of advice. Don’t wear that shirt with the red sleeves.”

You turn and frown at the red raglan. You’ve always kinda liked that shirt. “Why not?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the shirt the other Dave was wearing when he died.”

Oh.

Well, you’re taking that shirt to the fucking incinerator next chance you get.

“Yeah, you know, I don’t think that shade of red really goes well with my new orange complexion anyway,” you say, breezily. “Horribly clashing. Bad color scheme. Zero out of five hats.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve gotta give it half a hat for the objective coolness factor of the fact that you’re the guy wearing it.”

“Only _half_ a hat?” you say. “Egbert, I’m insulted. I’m worth at least two hats all on my own.”

John laughs, his scent taking on a bright note of sweetness under the smoke and meatiness, like maple syrup marinade. Fuzzy heat fills your belly, and you have to fight down a smile of your own. You’re blushing again, and seriously, Dave, get it together. You’re dating Jade now, you need to get over your ridiculous crush on John.

But there’s an almost instinctive part of you that can’t help it. The scent of your pack Alpha happy and pleased is a heady drug to which you’ve been addicted for a long, long time.

“All right, fine, _two_ hats for being Dave Strider,” he says, and your good mood is gone like that.

An oppressive silence descends.

“So, uh, thanks for the advice,” you finally say. “But I only have half an hour or so before I’m supposed to meet Jade, and I still have to get dressed, sooo…”

John holds up his hands. “Say no more,” he says. “I literally just wanted to come by to offer congratulations, man. You’ll have to tell me how it goes. LOFAF was a brilliant idea, Jade told me you suggested it.”

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s gonna be tough to find good places to go on dates on this ship.”

“There’s a consort village with a food stand on LOWAS,” John says. “I think somewhere they might even have a little restaurant.”

“Oh hey, yeah,” you say. “I’d say you should try it out with your own girlfriend, but seeing as how Jade and Nanna are both related to you, your only potential dates are consorts and chess people, and I think we can both agree that’d be pretty weird.”

John goes still, and his smile turns into a smirk, and you didn’t even know he knew _how_ to smirk. He lowers his eyelids so that he’s seeing you through his lashes, and he gives you a long, slow look. His gaze pans lazily up and down your body and you swear you get chills as he watches you.

“Well now,” he drawls, his eyes lingering on your chest and arms. “Strictly speaking, consorts aren’t my _only_ options for dating, now are they?”

Wait.

What?

Your mouth drops open without your permission.

“Have fun on your date, Dave,” John says, and leaves before you can say another fucking word.

Did - did John seriously just imply that _you_ were an option?

Did John “Not-A-Homosexual” Egbert _really_ just indicate that he might be potentially _attracted_ to you?

Strictly speaking it would still be straight but… you’ve assumed pretty much since the first week on the ship that he was a True Straight. Like, only-interested-in-actual-women straight. No-other-dicks-allowed-under-any-circumstances straight. Omega-dudes-need-not-apply straight.

Although the dick thing wouldn’t really be a problem for dating _you_ , would it?

The point stands that John fucking Egbert just looked you up and down like a stripper at a club. Like you were the hottest thing he’d seen in months. Like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on your hips and sink his cock into you.

You’re supposed to be meeting Jade for a date in half a fucking hour.

_Fuck._

John was probably just messing with you, you try to convince yourself. He and Nanna have really ramped up the pranks over the past few weeks, and you’re probably just the punchline of a new joke. He’s probably out there in the hallway, laughing himself sick over the look on your face.

You really can’t afford to be distracted like this on your date with Jade.

Now that you think about it… that’s probably why he did it. Dickhead. Although you can’t help smiling, because it almost sounds like something _you_ would do if you were in his shoes.

Still, the fluttering heat in your stomach doesn’t let up even a little, as you decide to go for a pale lime green dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and several buttons undone to give it a more casual air. You’re doubly nervous now, thinking about how Jade’s supposed to be here any minute _and also_ the fact that John basically just fucking hit on you.

When the knock finally sounds on your door at half after five, you’re a pathetic bundle of nerves, as tangled up inside as the cords that used to cover the floor of your room.

You open the door, trying to dry your palms discreetly on the fabric of your shirt, and hoping she won’t be able to tell how freaked out you are.

The instant you see her, your breath catches in your throat.

Jade is wearing a cherry red sundress covered in a large white floral pattern. Her bangs are held back by a matching white flower pin, and she has black flats and a little purse hanging off her shoulder. She’s put on a spot of blush and a shimmery lip gloss that makes you want to kiss that brightly glinting mouth.

“Hey, Dave,” she says, both hands clutching the strap of her purse. “You ready?”

You refrain - barely - from licking your dry lips. “Fuck yes,” you say. “Let’s get our goddamn date on.”


	7. Writing Our Own Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade and Davesprite go on their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I'm emotional about this chapter. This took me so long to write but I think it was worth it in the end.
> 
> Also, hi friends, [I put together a spoiler-free Official Timeline for this fic series in Google Docs (also featuring the "IS IT GAY?" flowchart).](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1D8sajtH6YoLxXLrzX-K7EUNNc1vkFkDVBf4Wt9OvtNA/edit?usp=sharing) I'll update it as I add more chapters, so it will always be current with the most recently-released chapter of the series as a whole. Hopefully this clarifies some stuff for anyone who's still wondering!
> 
> (Jade and Davesprite are both 14 here and they've already started in on Year 2 on the meteor, but I haven't been doing birthday chapters in any of my fics because I just don't have any ideas for them.)

You haven’t really had the chance to explore LOFAF in depth before. Whenever you visit, it’s always with the whole pack, and you’re usually all more focused on hanging out together and spending time in Jade’s cool house. And in your original timeline, it didn’t fucking exist, because Jade died before she could enter the game.

Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about Jade dying while you’re on a fucking _date_ with her.

The point is, LOFAF may have been your idea, but you really don’t know much about it at all, so Jade ends up guiding you around, because she _did_ get the chance to explore her planet a little during the game, and she’s apparently spent a lot of time in the intervening months digging a little further.

It’s beautiful - green vines and blooming flowers and hummingbirds fluttering by - so picturesque and saccharine it seems like something out of a Hallmark movie.

It is also, possibly, the most awkward encounter you’ve had in your entire life.

You and Jade had used up all your topics of conversation right at the beginning of your date with meaningless pleasantries - “What’s up?” “Not much, what’s up with you?” “You look nice.” “You do too.” “How’s it been?” “Same old, same old.”

Since then you’ve been walking in horrible, oppressive silence, apart from Jade’s occasional comment about the native flora and fauna.

What do you say to her? What do people talk about on dates? Hell, what the fuck did the two of you talk about _normally_ , when you were just hanging out? How can you stop this from being the most painful experience in your entire goddamn existence? It’s like the well of words between you two has run completely dry.

You’re buzzing with the need to do or say _something_ because you absolutely cannot stand this fucking silence one single fucking second longer, and you’re about to blurt out something incredibly stupid, when Jade lets out a miserable little laugh.

And it does sound _miserable_. It’s sad and soft and self-deprecating, and it makes you feel like absolute shit.

“I’m sorry,” Jade says. “I don’t - I don’t know what to do on a date. I don’t know anything.”

You swallow and reach out to take her hand.

“Hey, I mean,” you say, gently rubbing your thumb over her skin, “It’s not like I know what I’m doing, either. At least half the awkward is my fault.”

“Yeah, but you’re so _cool_ ,” Jade says wistfully. “You at least _feel_ like you know what you’re doing. I’m just wandering around like an idiot staring at flowers and thinking about how I don’t know what to say.”

“Jade,” you say. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

When she turns to you, you actually flick your shades down to look her in the eyes.

“I’m not fucking cool,” you say. “I’m really, really not. I am also wandering around like an idiot staring at flowers and thinking about how I don’t know what to say.”

Jade laughs as if she thinks you’re joking. “But you’re so smart, and funny, and you come up with amazing comebacks all the time,” she says.

“ _I’m_ smart?” you say incredulously, staring at her. “Are you kidding me? Jade, you built a plutonium-powered robo-bunny at the age of fucking thirteen. You read physics textbooks just for fun! I just make dumb raps and write a shitty webcomic. And my comebacks are just a product of my complete lack of a brain-to-mouth filter, okay, I say all kinds of stupid shit all the time that you don’t notice because you’re too focused on the cool comebacks. Rose used to roast the shit out of me for all my dong-filled Freudian slips.”

Plus, there’s, y’know, the whole getting fucking by your brother thing, but you’re not telling Jade about that.

She gives you a look that says she sees what you’re trying to say, but she doesn’t _really_ believe you. On the one hand, it’s kinda neat that you managed to ingrain the idea of your coolness so deeply into Jade's head that she’s literally incapable of thinking you’re _not_ cool. On the other, it’s kinda frustrating that she doesn’t seem to be listening.

Then again, it makes sense she thinks you’re cool. She’s still conflating you with Real Dave.

Which isn’t to say that Real Dave is necessarily cooler than you, because all those things are true of him, too, but he’s also a fucking god-tier who’s saved the day more than once. So he’s, y’know, _kinda cool._

You sigh, and try not to let it sound too frustrated. “My point is, Jade… I think you’re pretty cool, too, you know? That doesn’t stop either of us from being dumbasses on dates. It’s not like either of us have actually been on one before.”

Jade bites her lip. “I guess that’s true,” she says. “You just seem like you’re a lot more experienced than me.”

That… sure is a loaded phrase.

“Well, definitely not about dates,” you say, hoping that your discomfort doesn’t show in your voice.

Jade smiles at you and squeezes your hand. “I guess that means we get to write our own rules, huh?”

“That sounds like a fantastic plan,” you say.

“So… what do _we_ do on dates, then?” Jade says.

“Evidence suggests we wander around and talk about not knowing what to do,” you say.

Jade laughs then, genuinely amused, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up. This is still awkward, but it’s a hell of a lot better than confused and uncertain silence.

She reaches out and grabs your other hand, pulling you suddenly towards her. Caught off guard, you fall into the movement, and when you look up your face is barely an inch away from hers. She leans forward until she’s whispering in your ear like a secret.

“ _I_ have an idea for something we can do.” Her breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of your upper ear and a tingle runs down your spine.

“Yeah?” you say, barely above a whisper yourself.

Jade retreats a bit and lets go of your hand, reaching into her little black purse. You think she was trying for something smooth and suave, but she’s obviously not used to using a purse, and the effect is a bit marred by the fact that she spends a little while fishing around in it to grab whatever she’s looking for. Finally, with a triumphant little _ha!_ , she pulls out her computer goggles.

She slips them on for a second, and you watch, nonplussed as she apparently does _something_ with them.

A second later, music starts to play out of the tiny speakers by her temples.

Music you recognize.

As the bell-like opening tones of “Crystalanthemums” spill out into the evening, Jade grins at you and says, “Do you know how to dance?”

You huff out a laugh. “No offense, Jade, but I don’t really think the stuff we wrote is the kind of music you dance to,” you say. “Not with somebody else.”

Jade responds by pulling you in closer, wrapping a hand around your waist. “I thought we were writing our own rules?” she says.

You automatically move to steady yourself as she pulls you, one hand landing on her shoulder and the other falling to her waist. You fling your wings out, slightly, for balance, because even though you theoretically can’t actually fall thanks to sprite powers, that doesn’t mean your instincts have caught up yet.

You’ve found another nice thing about being a sprite. If you were still your actual height, this position would probably have smashed your nose into Jade’s boobs. But you can float just a bit higher off the ground, letting you look Jade straight in the eyes instead.

Jade grins at you. “Hi,” she whispers, her other hand slipping down to wrap across your waist.

“Hi,” you say, desperately hoping you aren’t blushing as much as you think you are.

That’s when the drumline kicks in.

Jade begins to sway back and forth, and you sway with her. You can hear her humming the tune under her breath. The entire time you find you can’t stop staring into her delighted eyes.

Unfortunately, it’s a short song. As the final notes peter out, you float there with your hands around her, and wonder why your heart is beating like you just ran a marathon, when all you’ve been doing is swaying slightly in place.

“We should write more stuff together,” you say, breathlessly.

Jade’s expression has turned soft, her eyelids half closed as she smiles at you like you’re a video of an adorable kitten falling asleep, or a picture of snuggling puppies. Like you’re something small and cute and precious that ought to be protected _._

More than anything else that’s happened tonight, _that_ expression is what makes you feel completely weightless, helplessly drowning in her eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Jade asks.

_Of course_ , is what you want to say. _You can do whatever you want to me._

Instead you lick your lips and respond with, “Sure.”

She lifts one hand off your waist to hold your chin, tilting it up and forward. There’s a moment of breathless anticipation, as she stares down at your mouth like it’s a forbidden fruit she’ll finally get to taste. When she closes her eyes and leans in, you can’t help the slight shudder of arousal that runs through you, the way your own eyelids drop shut.

The first thing that happens is your glasses click together, and suddenly you realize that neither of you have any real idea what you’re doing, you’ve never kissed anyone before, both of you are working off of cheesy movies and you’re not even sure you know what a kiss is supposed to be.

But Jade just laughs softly, which pulls a chuckle from you, too. Then she reaches up, grabs the frame of your shades, and lifts them off your face, pushing them into your hair.

You let her.

Jade’s lips, when they press to yours, feel ever-so-slightly tacky - the lipstick. She is gentle, and hesitant, and the touch is oh-so-soft. Her thumb runs back and forth on your chin, a light caress. Her lips move - parting just barely and closing again, and this feels almost terrifyingly intimate. You mimic her lip movements, and your chest feels like it’s about to explode.

When she pulls back, the lipstick keeps your skin together for an instant longer than you’d expect, and you feel it heavy and waxy on your mouth.

You peel open your eyes, and Jade is flushed with delight, and you feel exactly the same.

“You’ve got —” Jade says, reaching up to your mouth. She scrubs her thumb across your lips a few times, and warmth pools in your belly.

“You had a little lipstick,” Jade finishes, going to wipe her hand on her skirt.

“Wait,” you blurt out, “Hang on, I have a napkin, you don’t want to get lipstick stains on that dress.”

She lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, and you’re still so fucking close together, she’s still holding your waist and her face is _right there_ and you almost fumble the napkin when you mutter the right rhyme to get it out of your sylladex. It’s just paper, but you somehow feel polite and old fashioned when you offer it to her and she plucks it from your hand.

As she wipes her thumb on the napkin, you say, “I think a kiss is traditionally at the _end_ of the first date.”

Jade laughs and cups your face in her palm.

“Oh Dave,” she says, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “Didn’t we agree? We’re writing our own rules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jade, in the back of her head: "Wow! That was way better than the _last_ time I kissed a Dave!"
> 
> Luckily, she has enough tact not to actually *say* that.


	8. Bleached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite contemplates suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was. A really tough chapter to write, for reasons that should be fairly obvious, which is why it took me like a month. I imagine it will probably also be really difficult to read, and I'm genuinely sorry about that.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. Extremely detailed and _graphic_ suicidal thoughts. This chapter does not fuck around, and I know some of my readers have been depressed and/or suicidal, so PLEASE be safe. There is a brief summary of this chapter in the end notes for anyone who wants to skip it.

The night you alchemize a bottle of bleach and stash it under your bed is hardly the first time you’ve contemplated killing yourself. It’s just the first time you’ve taken steps to enact a specific plan for it.

Prior to this you’ve always kinda assumed you’d do it with a sword, if you were going to. Go all seppuku on your own ass, stab the blade into your belly and be done with it. Or, you know, just kinda topple comically down onto it, like some kinda Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff snuff comic.

Except nowadays you’ve got an actual, literal _hole_ in your chest where you can stash a sword at will, and you’re no longer a hundred percent certain that running yourself through would actually do anything other than make you bleed gross yellow ichor until the wound slowly closed up, because you don’t think blood loss is really an issue for you, anymore.

But bleach eats through practically anything, given enough time.

Drinking bleach is supposed to hurt, give you horrible, agonizing chemical burns. Part of you thinks, _good_ , because it should hurt. You _deserve_ to hurt.

Another part of you is scared of the pain, so you don’t use it that night. It just lies there in the dark, underneath you, waiting and ready for when you stop being such a crybaby coward and finally go through with it.

The next day you’re ashamed of yourself for even _thinking_ about suicide because fuck, you’ve got a girlfriend and she’s literally the person you’ve been crushing on since you were like, eleven, and you’ve got a pack who are actually nice to you and never make you fight anything and scent-mark you all the time, and an Alpha who seems to actually care about what you’re feeling and hasn’t ever even _once_ made you be his bitch during rut.

Objectively speaking, life is going _great_ , and you’re being a stupid baby over _literally nothing_. You dump the bottle of bleach down the bathroom sink, berating yourself under your breath over being a fucking _wimp_ about dumb shit.

Three days later, you alchemize another bottle and stash it under your bed.

You’re just so tired of _everything_ , and the rest of the pack doesn’t deserve to deal with your bullshit.

They shouldn’t have to constantly scent-mark you to sate your clingy, needy ass, or tiptoe around your glaring mental potholes. They shouldn’t be forced to come find you when you randomly disappear off the face of the map, or deal with your feathers falling all over the place. They shouldn’t have to constantly reassure you that they _care_. The shouldn’t _care_ at all.

And Jade…

Fuck.

You’re a shitty excuse for a boyfriend, because you’re useless on dates and you forgot your one-month, three-month, and every _other_ monthly anniversary since you started dating Jade, and what’s more you’re a tainted, brother-fucking _whore_ who’s filthy hands shouldn’t be anywhere near someone as perfect and pure and innocent as she is. She deserves so, so much better than you.

At the very least, she deserves the _real_ Dave, not a bird-brained fuck-up from a doomed timeline who should never have even existed in the first place.

If you just take yourself out of their lives, everyone will be much better off.

And then you won’t have to go through the ordeal of _living_ every single goddamn day, when your existence is empty and useless and _meaningless_ and nothing is worth it anymore.

But once again, you chicken out, and feel guilty and ungrateful, and end up dumping the bottle.

And then the next day, you make another one.

It’s a good thing you have a nearly limitless supply of grist, because you go through bottles of bleach like you used to go through AJ. Except that you’re _not_ drinking them, just thinking about it. Nobody has apparently noticed you alchemizing a fuckton of bleach, either, though you’re not actually sure how long that’s gonna last.

When you’re on approximately the seventh bottle of bleach stashed under the bed and tell yourself you’re _definitely_ going to actually drink it tonight, you end up sitting on a couch in one of the out-of-the-way common rooms, scrolling through consort social media - not because you enjoy it, but just because it’s something to do other than stare idly into space and contemplate your death. It’s stupid that you’re going to spend your last fucking hours on something you don’t even _like_ , but whatever. You’re too tired to do anything else; and anyway, nothing’s actually fun anymore.

You’re just minding your own business when Jade walks by the hallway. She pauses when she catches sight of you, and shoots you a tentative smile.

You don’t smile back. You hope she takes it as part of your cool dude demeanor, and not just being rude.

“Hi, Dave,” she says, walking a little further into the room. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You shrug. “Sure,” you say. Might as well have at least some time with your girlfriend before you kill yourself tonight.

Jade sighs, just audibly, and then sits down right next to you, pressing her thigh to yours and looping an arm across your shoulders. Warmth fills you at the contact, and her green, grassy scent mingles with yours as she rubs her wrist across your shoulders. Man, she’s so great, and she deserves so much better than you.

“Whatcha looking at?” she asks, brightly.

You shrug again. “Nothing,” you say. “Just scrolling.”

An odd, tense silence floats between the two of you.

There used to be a time not too long ago when this kind of anticipatory quiet would have made you jumpy, when you would have said something to fill it, just so that you wouldn’t have to deal with this dead emptiness in the air. And there is something of the anxiety blooming in your chest— _she hates me, she’s angry at me_ — but not enough for you to do anything about it.

Besides. It’s all going to be over by the end of the night, anyway. It might actually be _better_ for herif she ends up hating you before you die.

Jade's the one who finally breaks the silence. “So,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “We, uh. We haven’t been on a date in a little while. And, y’know, our birthdays are next week, and John and I found this cool little nightclub kinda thing on LOHAC last week when we were exploring there, and I thought it might be fun to go with you sometime.” She pauses and then adds, “I’d like to dance with you, again.”

Fuck.

You can’t believe you forgot about Jade’s fucking birthday.

You can’t up and _kill yourself_ right near her birthday, that would be the shittiest move any boyfriend has ever pulled in the history of ever. God, you’re the worst. She deserves so, _so_ much better than your stupid ass.

“Sure, let’s do a birthday date,” you say, feeling like you’re dragging the words out of the pit of your stomach. “Do candles and cake and shit. Crash a nakodile nightclub.”

Jade laughs, looking delighted, and a part of you preens because _you_ did that, you put that goofy grin on your girlfriend’s face, you brought her that moment of happiness. God, she’s so pretty when she smiles like that.

“I was thinking maybe the 30th?” Jade says. “So that we can do parties with Nanna and John the next day, but for the date it can just be you and me.”

You nod. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

Jade smiles and snuggles into your side, and the conversation drifts to other topics. It’s nice and warm, and Jade is gorgeous and wonderful and you are the world’s most _ungrateful_ ass for wanting to throw this away just because you feel empty ninety percent of the time. It would hurt Jade.

That night, you grab the bottle of bleach out from under your bed and pour it resolutely down the bathroom sink.

The day after your date with Jade at the nightclub, you alchemize another one.

This vicious cycle can’t last forever, and you have a feeling you know exactly how it all ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUMMARY:  
> Davesprite is actively suicidal, and has a specific plan for doing so. Most of the chapter is Davesprite's internal monologue berating himself alternately for not being "brave" enough to commit suicide, or being "ungrateful" for feeling that way in the first place when his life is going pretty great. On a day when he is very close to going through with his plan, Jade asks him to go on a birthday date with her, and he realizes that would be a terrible birthday present, so he says yes to the date and puts it off. However, at the end of the fic, he once more sets up everything he would need to go through with his plan, although he doesn't actually commit suicide at that point.
> 
> \--
> 
> I _promise_ you this fic has a happy ending. I give you my solemn word that there _is_ a light at the end of this tunnel, and it's _not_ an oncoming train. This and the next few chapters are easily the darkest point of this fic, and they are _very dark_. But this is not where the story ends, and things _are_ going to get better for Davesprite.
> 
> Also, if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please know that I really care about you, and I want you to live, and I want you to get help. Please, please, please reach out to someone who can help you. If you live in the US, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. If you live elsewhere, you can Google suicide prevention in your country and call that line. You are a wonderful person, and you deserve to live. I promise you there's a light at the end of your tunnel, too, no matter how bleak things may seem.


	9. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite reaches his breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Got another chapter for you before I go into NaNo mode!
> 
> This is once again a pretty heavy chapter, so please heed the warnings.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mental/emotional trauma.

Because you’re you, you pick the worst possible time to break up with Jade. Doing the wrong thing at the wrong time is pretty much par for the course, though, and the angrier she is with you, the less broken up she’ll be after tonight.

You’re lying together in one of Nanna’s nests. (She insists they’re for the whole pack, but she built them, and they always smell most strongly of her lemon-cupcake scent, so you can’t help but think of them as hers.)

Jade has her arms locked around your waist and her legs wrapped around your tail, with her head resting gently on your chest. You can’t see her face through the cascade of dark curls, but her tail wags back and forth, and you can hear the low rumble of her contented purring.

You feel empty, like a used-up can of shaving cream— you can keep pressing that button, Junior, but all you’re gonna get is a sad little hiss of compressed air. You can’t even find the energy to be glad you make her happy. She deserves so, so much better than you, anyway.

“I think we should break up,” you say, addressing the ceiling.

Jade’s tail stills, and her purring stops abruptly. She raises her head to look at your face, but you can’t meet her eyes. You’re supremely thankful for the shades.

“W- _What?”_ she says.

“We should break up,” you repeat.

Jade lifts herself up onto her hands, so that instead of lying on your chest, she’s hovering over you, pulling herself forward far enough that her face is directly in front of yours, _forcing_ you to look at her. Her hair falls down around your head and makes an odd curtain of darkness.

You remember stealing kisses like this, secluded and private, kept safe from prying eyes by the shield of her curls.

You refuse to swallow against the lump in your throat— not when she’s close enough that she can _see_ the movement.

“Why?” Jade says. “I thought— what did I do wrong?”

 _That_ pulls an emotion out of you, a pang of guilt in your chest, because you never wanted to make her feel bad. It’s not her fault, _you’re_ the screw-up, _you’re_ the asshole, _you’re_ the one who doesn’t deserve her. You open your mouth, ready to take it all back, to cover it as a joke or a moment of weakness, or _something_ , but you choke on the words.

“Dave, please,” Jade says, “Talk to me.”

It’s the name that does it. That one-word reminder that you’re _not_ the person she really wants. This isn’t _your_ Jade, and you’re not _her_ Dave. You’re just a stand-in, a replacement, because the guy she _wants_ is totally unreachable.

You push her away, wriggling out from underneath her, and she obliges, the two of you sitting up together. You scoot away so that your tail is no longer touching her thigh.

It’s not her fault. It’s _not._ But the angrier you make her, the less she’ll mourn when you’re gone.

“No offense, but you’re just not really what I’m looking for in a girlfriend,” you lie, the words feeling like they could burn a hole through your tongue just as easily as the industrial strength bleach you have stashed under your bed.

Jade reels back as if you’d slapped her. You plow through the way your heart clenches. You’ve always been good at words, at spewing out long rambles that don’t make any sense and alienate everyone around you.

“I just don’t think we’re very compatible, Jade,” you say. “I mean, you’re a great person, and all, but I think we want different things out of a relationship, you know? I don’t do all the lovey-dovey shit.”

Jade’s green-grass scent turns bitter, sour, and her voice wobbles when she says, “I didn’t know… We— We don’t have to do any of that anymore, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I can change—”

“Jade,” you cut in, keeping your voice firm even though you can feel yourself choking up, too. “I don’t want to date you anymore.”

Her face crumples, eyes squinting as the tears fall down her face and she starts to sob. A cannonball of guilt blasts through your stomach, ripping your innards to shreds. She reaches out to you with a single hand, seeking comfort, and you want to lean in, to circle your arms around her and apologize, tell her you didn’t mean it, tell her the truth, which is that she’s the most wonderful thing that ever happened to you, and you love her.

Instead you dodge away from her grasp, lifting yourself into the air. “Sorry,” you say, sincerely, because the guilt for making her feel bad is eating you alive. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Jade deserves so, _so_ much better than you.

You fly away as fast as you can while still seeming casual, trying to pretend you’re not affected at all. Her sobs follow you farther than you would have expected, echoing down the corridors. When you realize your hands are shaking, you cross your arms in front of your chest.

On your way to your room, you pass by the open door to the kitchen, where John and Nanna are sitting and chatting with each other. Both look up at you.

“Dave?” Nanna calls out. “Is everything okay?”

The angrier they are at you, the less they’ll mourn.

“Fuck off, _Jane_ ,” you spit, putting as much anger as you can into the words.

It must be a plausible act, because both John and Nanna gasp in shock, and John actually rises to his feet. “Dave, what the fuck—”

You dart away before he can finish the sentence.

After you’ve made it to your bedroom and slammed the door shut, you slowly slump down into a huddle on the ground, your wings instinctively arching over your head to shield you from view.

Pathetic. Useless. Worthless.

A hollow ache fills your belly, and you can’t even muster up any tears. You just ruined the only chance at happiness you ever had, and you did it on purpose, and you hate this. You don’t want to exist anymore.

Well, you’ve finally severed your biggest tie, like you wanted to. You can end it all, spare everyone else the burden of taking care of you and your fucked-up mind.

Shaking, you rise from the floor, make your way to your nest, and pull out the bottle. You settle down on the bed, arranging the blankets around yourself, and slowly unscrew the cap.

It smells like bleach.

Duh. Of course it does.

You swallow, staring at the bottle. You know you’re going to have to drink a lot of it for this to work, and it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt so bad.

You sit, and hold the bottle in your hand, and try to gather the courage to go through with it. Your hands are still quaking in fear, and you snarl under your breath at yourself.

“Get it together, idiot,” you hiss. “Fucking _do_ it already, Jesus Christ. Nobody else should have to deal with your bullshit anymore.”

You take a deep breath.

You bring the bottle to your lips.

There’s a knock at the door.

You jolt at the sound, splashing a bit of the bleach on yourself, and quickly lower the bottle, a spark of shame running through you.

“Dave, what the _fuck_ is your problem,” John growls, and you can smell the acrid smoke of his anger slipping in through the cracks.

“Go away,” you say, and to your horror, you hear your voice waver with terror and tears. You clear your throat gruffly and call out more forcefully, “Go _away,_ John.”

“No!” John says. “No, I’m not going to just _go away_ , Dave, you just broke up with Jade— _my sister_ — totally out of the blue, and then you swore at my nanna! You’ve got a lot to fucking answer for, and I can tell when something’s up! You don’t get to just tell me to _go away._ ”

You stare down at the open bottle of bleach and realize that tears are building in your eyes. You can’t drink it while John’s still here.

“Wow, yeah, I’m such a fucking asshole,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “Just a stupid, worthless _cunt_ who can’t even keep a girl satisfied for a whole fucking year. Who the fuck would even care about me?”

There’s a pause of silence. You wonder for a second if he’s gone away, but you can still smell that smoky ham, charred and burning with anger.

“Dave, what the fuck?”

_Dave._

“God fucking dammit John, stop _calling_ me that,” you snarl weakly. “When are you going to get it through your thick fucking skull that I’m _not_ the real Dave? You and Jade both, you don’t want me, you want _your_ Dave, you shouldn’t fucking settle for the useless bird-brained fuck-up—”

You cut yourself off, gripping the bottle of bleach so tightly your knuckles go white.

There’s another moment of silence, and then John says, “I’m coming in.”

“No, _don’t—_ ” you say, but it’s too late, the door is already opening.

John stands in the doorway and his eyes rake over the scene, taking in your shaking hands, your hunched position, the bottle of bleach tight in your grip. You drop your eyes to your lap, because you _can’t_ look at him right now, you _can’t._

All you see is your stupid ghostly sprite tail, and it makes you want to vomit.

“Dave,” John says, quietly. “What are you doing?”

You gesture violently in anger, careful with the hand holding the bottle, but not carefully enough that you don’t send it splashing all over the place. “I’m _not Dave,_ ” you snarl, “I’m _not him_ , I’m not the guy you think I am, I _can’t_ be that guy, I will _never_ be that guy, I’m not—”

John must have crossed the room at some point in your tirade, because his hand closes around the grip you have on the bottle. You still under his touch, breathing hard.

“Dave Sprite,” John says, and you hate hearing him call you that, you _hate_ that you are Dave _sprite_ , not real Dave. Furious tears slip down your cheeks as you try to blink them away.

“What’s the bleach for?” John says.

You freeze, swallow, stare down at the way your tail is knotted in a parody of a lap. “What?” you say.

“What’s the bleach for, Dave Sprite?” John says.

“It’s…” you say, still staring down, still not looking at him. “It’s for… cleaning up mistakes. It’s to get rid of…” The last words are a hoarse whisper. “To get rid of _me._ ”

John uses his free hand to try to pry apart your grip on the bottle. “You’re not a mistake,” he says, sharply.

You let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh and dig your fingers in even tighter. “My whole fucking _existence_ is a mistake, dumbass,” you say. “I am literally only here because the timeline got screwed up when you up and _died_ on us. I was never supposed to exist.”

And oh, you hate that you can see it so clearly in your mind, the prone corpse of your best friend, eyes closed as if in sleep, hands crossed solemnly over his chest. You choke on your next breath of air, and a ragged sob escapes you.

Before you can change your mind, you wrench your hand out of John’s grip, bring the bottle to your lips, and toss your head back, ready to fucking join him.

The bleach doesn’t even have enough time to moisten your lips before John slaps the bottle away from you with a cry of anger. It spills across your mattress, soaks the floor, and you can see the places where earlier droplets have started to whiten the fabric. You stare at them until they become a blur behind your tears.

“Dave— fuck, I mean, Dave Sprite,” John says, grabbing your hands. “That’s not— you can’t— _fuck_ dude. Don’t fucking do that!”

The tears spill down your cheeks and you snatch your hands away to cover your face, drawing your wings up around you. You don’t want John to see you like this, you don’t want _anyone_ to see you like this, pathetic and weak and _stupid_ , crying like a baby because you couldn’t fucking kill yourself properly. Hunching your shoulders, you curl away from him.

“Go away,” you sob. “Just fucking go away.”

“No way,” John says. “I am not leaving you alone right now, are you kidding me? After— after that? That’s not fucking happening.”

He touches your shoulder and you flinch away from him on instinct, choking back a frightened gasp. You immediately feel even more wretched and pathetic than you already were, fucking scaredy-cat crybaby cunt drowning in your own fucking tears, probably gonna piss yourself from terror because somebody _touched_ you, you fucking—

“Dave Sprite,” John says, sounding a little helpless.

“Just leave me alone,” you say.

“I can’t do that,” John says. “I can’t— I care about you, man. You’re pack.”

You let out a bitter, harsh laugh. “Oh, _sure_ I am. Because you actually _want_ a dickless bird sprite from an alternate future as a member of your pack. You’re _definitely_ not projecting your feelings for another guy onto me.”

John growls a little, the burning smell of anger getting back into his scent. “Why the fuck do you have this idea that I care about the other Dave more than you?”

This is enough to get you to look up at him, shooting him your most unimpressed glare. “Uh, because _duh_ , of course you do? Of course you fucking care about the real guy who’s your _actual_ best friend instead of a cheap knock-off wannabe just pretending to be him. Who wouldn’t?”

“Dude,” John says. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” you say. “Isn’t it, Mr. _‘Can I talk to the real Dave?’_ ”

You take several deep, harsh breaths in silence before John finally responds.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” John says. “I didn’t mean— I was wrong about that. About you. Sorry.”

“Sure, okay, and I’m supposed to believe that?” you snarl. “I’m supposed to believe that you’d just dump your _best friend_ in favor of some asshole from the future?”

“Yes!” John snaps. “In case you forgot, I haven’t fucking talked to the other Dave in like two whole years, Dave Sprite! _You’re_ the one who’s in my pack! _You’re_ my Omega!”

“God, don’t call me that,” you say. “ _‘Dave Sprite._ ’”

“Oh, come the fuck on!” John shouts. “You don’t want me to call you _Dave_ , you don’t want me to call you Dave _Sprite_ , so what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to let me fucking kill myself and just get it _over_ with!”

There’s a cold, ringing silence.

“I’m not going to do that, dude,” John says.

You hunch over yourself, covering your vulnerable stomach with your arms. “I know,” you say.

John’s scent is almost unrecognizable, sour and bitter and smoky all at once, almost overpowering the ham and bacon. He’s angry, and worried about you, and scared of losing you, and you can smell it in his scent. It’s hard to deny it when it’s right there in the air in front of you, literally under your nose.

“Can I sit with you?” John asks, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it.

You shrug. “Sure, whatever,” you mumble into your chest. “I don’t give a crap.”

The mattress shifts underneath you as John climbs onto the bed, into your nest. He kneels behind you, and then wraps his arms around your torso, gently pulling you backwards. You move at his direction, leaning against his chest with a short, involuntary sigh.

John scent-marks the top of your head with his chin and cheeks, rubbing his face against your hair. The fresh scent of ham and bacon and woodsmoke soaks into your skin, and you feel tears prickle once more at your eyes.

“I do care about you,” John says. “And I care about _you_ you. Other Dave is a cool guy, and I miss him, but you’re the guy I’ve been getting to know better for the past two years. I didn’t invite you into the pack out of pity, dude. I invited you because I actually— I _love_ you.”

You squirm uncomfortably in his grip, the rawness of that word hooking your gut like a fish on a line. “Can’t resist my sexy Omegan allure, huh, Egbert?” you say, trying to make light of it, turn it into a joke.

“ _No_ , Dave, I— Look, I’m not saying you’re not attractive, because you objectively _are_ ,” he says. “But what I mean is that you’re family, okay? You’ve been my best friend since pretty much the moment I started using the internet. And _don’t_ tell me that was the other Dave, because I _know_ your timelines are the same up until I tried to fly off to Terezi’s gate, so that was _both_ of you.”

Your breath hitches. John squeezes his arms more tightly around you.

“I’m not going to let you die,” John says, firmly. “I’m your Alpha. Keeping you safe is my _job._ And I don’t care if that means I have to protect you from yourself, because you’re my pack, and I love you.”

The tears start to run down your cheeks and you shake your head wordlessly, tossing it from side-to-side, like you’ll be able to throw him off.

“I don’t deserve this,” you choke out around your sobs.

“You totally do, but also, I don’t give a fuck,” John says. “You’re _mine_.” The last words come out in a croon, and he pulls you flush against him, pressed to him from chest to thigh. You drink in that heady scent of ham and bacon and woodsmoke.

“Alpha,” you mutter brokenly, and turn in his arms.

Your thought process isn’t even clear to _you_ when you pull yourself up and kiss him, almost unaware it’s happening until your lips are pressed to his.

John sighs against your mouth, and then gently pushes you backwards.

The instant your brain catches up with your body, you cringe away from him.

“Sorry,” you say, pulling in on yourself. “Sorry, fuck, sorry, that was— fuck.” God that was stupid, you’re so stupid, what the fuck—

John prevents you from pulling away from him entirely, settling his hands on your waist. “No, I— it’s okay,” he says, although his face is flaming red. “I just— you just broke up with Jade, and—”

“Fuck,” you say. “Christ, and here I am macking all over you, I am such a fucking asshole, shit, I—”

John puts his finger on your lips, making a shushing noise. You freeze, held motionless by the feeling of his warm skin on your mouth.

“Stop,” he says. “We— we’ll talk about this, and talk about it with Jade, but later, yeah? Right now I’m more worried about making sure you aren’t going to hurt yourself.”

You look down at your lap. You both know you can’t promise that.

John bites his lip. “Okay,” he says. “I don’t want you to be alone for the next little while? So. Do you want to just hang out here, or go talk with the rest of the pack?”

You curl in on yourself further. “I don’t want to leave,” you whisper.

“Okay,” John says. “Then I’m staying right here with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might already know this, but Smells Like Belonging is my NaNo this year-- I want to write 50,000 additional words in this fic during the month of November. Looking at my outline, and bearing in mind how fucking wordy Dirk is as a POV character, that's probably gonna take me at least to the end of Act Two and possibly all the way through Act Three as well.
> 
> I don't usually do much editing during NaNo, so don't expect to see too many chapters going up this month. However, by the time December rolls around, I should have a decent chunk of chapters ready to clean up and post.
> 
> If you want to encourage me and/or ask me questions, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://dedicatedfollower467.tumblr.com/) or [NaNoWriMo.org!](https://nanowrimo.org/participants/dedicatedfollower467)


	10. The Meaning of Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davesprite apologizes to Jade, and some secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient while I worked on this, folks! This fic is the hardest of my three "Act Two" core fics to write... but I'm hoping that this chapter will spark a breakthrough, and things will get easier from here on out.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Discussions of past rape/incest, suicidal ideation, victim blaming etc.

The upshot of the conversation you have with the rest of the pack is that you’re not allowed to be alone.

Ever.

Like, literally, there is somebody waiting outside the bathroom door when you piss.

Not that you even _can_ actually piss, but there are other things you still do in the bathroom, like shower, and besides, it’s the _principle_ of the thing.

John follows you around basically every goddamn second of every goddamn day, except when he’s using the bathroom himself, in which case, Nanna stays with you. And like, okay, you kinda get it, you get that they don’t trust you, but also, you feel like you’re being constantly watched, and it gives you the same weird vibes your Bro’s cameras always used to give you.

The only member of your pack who hasn’t been dogging your heels for the past week is Jade.

In fact, you’ve barely seen Jade at all, except in passing, when she glares at you as she stomps out of the room. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her _this_ pissed off before in your life, and it hurts like a motherfucker, watching her walk away.

Then again, this is your own fault, isn’t it? You _wanted_ her to be mad at you.

You just didn’t think you’d have to stick around and deal with the fallout.

One evening, as you lay down to curl up on a mattress on the floor of John’s room, you abruptly realize that you can’t smell Jade’s scent on your skin anymore. It’s been so long since she last marked you, and John’s and Nanna’s scents are so much stronger than hers, that you don’t have her mark anymore.

Jade’s rejected you.

When you finally articulate the thought in your own head, it hits like a freight train. Before you even know it, tears have starting trickling down your face and pooling on the pillow underneath you.

Fuck, this is stupid, this is _so_ stupid, she didn’t reject you, _you_ rejected _her,_ and she’s right to hate you. You’re the asshole who broke up with her and then went and tried to fucking kill yourself.

There’s a rustle over from John’s bed. “Hey, uh,” he whispers, and then there’s a long pause, because you still haven’t figured out whether you want your pack to call you Dave or not. “You okay?”

You curl up tighter. “I’m fine,” you choke out.

John sighs loudly through his nose. “Dude,” he says.

Your shoulders are hunched so high folks might as well start calling you ‘Quasimodo.’ “I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” you half-snarl. “Good _night.”_

There’s a beat of silence. Then John says. “Okay. Good night.”

As embarrassing as it is, you actually fucking cry yourself to sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, John is still asleep; you can hear the gentle pattern of his breathing. It’s early, for you, although there’s no day or night on the ship, just an ad hoc schedule your little pack has put together for the sake of convenience.

Except it’s not really your pack anymore, is it? Not without Jade.

The thought almost brings tears to your eyes again, and suddenly you can’t stand to sit here in alone with your thoughts another minute more. You stand silently, slipping out of John’s bedroom by phasing through the walls like a ghost.

Sometimes you still feel like you _are_ a ghost among the living; the shade of a person who died long, long ago and yet is cursed to remain, wandering the same old routines forever.

You make your way to the kitchen, thinking you’ll go see Nanna.

You’re surprised to find that you’re apparently up early enough that Nanna hasn’t started her baking yet.

Maybe it isn't morning at all.

This is the first time that you have been alone in _days._

It occurs to you that you could alchemize another bottle of bleach.

Instead, you make your way to Jade’s room.

The door is closed, but you need to see her, so you don’t stop to think. You just ghost your head through the panel to look at her.

You are surprised to find that she’s actually _awake_ , sitting up in bed and reading a book, and she looks up as you poke your head in, a slight frown line appearing between her eyebrows.

“Shit, sorry,” you say, reflexively. “I didn’t expect you to be awake.”

“What, so you were just gonna stare at me while I slept?” she says, acidly.

Guiltily, you duck your head and make as if to leave, but Jade just shakes her head. “Get _in_ here, Davesprite.”

The name feels like a blow from one of Bro’s swords, but you slink into the room anyways, phasing through the door and settling yourself down meekly on the floor just inside the door. You stare down at your twisted tail and find your fingers drawn to the thinned-out tip of it, twirling it around and around.

“What do you want, Davesprite?”

You sit there and can’t make your mouth work.

How do you say that you’ve lost her scent on your skin? How do you bring up the fact that she hasn’t scent-marked you in _ages_ , that your pack is falling apart? How do you tell her how desperately you love her, how much you miss her?

“I haven’t… seen you around, lately,” you say, lamely. “I just— I wanted to check.”

“That’s all?”

“I miss you.”

The words come tumbling out of your mouth without your permission, tripping and stumbling over your tongue. Tears are prickling in your eyes and you don’t know when or how they got there.

“I don’t… smell like you, anymore,” you say, still staring down at your mockery of a lap. “I know you fucking hate me right now, and I know we’re not really friends anymore, or if we ever were but… can we still be pack?”

Jade sighs, and you hear a rustling noise as she, presumably, sets the book to one side. Your vision is too blurry with tears and too focused on the floor to be able to tell for certain.

“I don’t hate you,” she says. “Packmates don’t hate each other.”

You let out a bitter, sour laugh. “Tell that to my fucking brother.”

The tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you _hate_ this. You hate crying, you hate being _weak,_ you hate that you’re falling apart in front of Jade like a fucking baby. You try to curl up into yourself, shutting out the world in the vague hope that if you can’t see her, she can’t see you, but knowing you still look pathetic and stupid anyway.

Then there’s a gentle touch to the back of your neck, and Jade’s comforting green scent washes peacefully over you.

Nonsensically, that just makes you cry harder, silent tears transforming into choked, hiccupping sobs that wrack your whole body and make you shake. The shame and embarrassment feel like living creatures clawing their way through your stomach, and you feel your face get heated as you try to curl further away from Jade, even as you instinctively press into her touch.

You can’t bear for her to see you like this, but you can’t bear to leave, either.

And maybe, deep down somewhere, there’s a tiny, desperate part of you that _aches_ for someone to see just how bad you’re hurting.

It’s not big enough to drown out the shame and self-hatred, but it keeps you on the floor of Jade’s room instead of fleeing down the hallway.

“Oh, I—” Jade says, sounding flustered, confused, and you don’t want her to have to deal with this, with your fucking nonsense, so you choke back your sobs and work very hard on controlling yourself.

You wrestle yourself back down into a semblance of order, still hunched over your lap and sniffling, but not wracked with sobs.

“Sorry,” you say, and to your chagrin, it comes out hoarse and thick with tears, clear that you’re still on the verge of breaking down again.

“It’s— It’s all right, Dave,” she says. Your stomach flips uncomfortably at the name, because you’re _still_ not sure if that’s what you want them to call you. If you’re Dave or Davesprite or if you want to be something else entirely.

You don’t respond. Instead, the two of you sit in silence on the floor of her bedroom. Jade slowly rubs the back of your neck, letting her wrist gland scent-mark you, and you know that part of the way you relax is an instinctive, involuntary response to having your pack touch you, but it’s also just _nice._ This is what you missed, what you wanted; having her scent-mark you and know that you’re part of her pack.

Jade sighs and shifts beside you. “I’m sorry,” she says, quietly. “I’ve been angry, but I shouldn’t have stopped marking you.”

You shake your head. “I’m the one who was an asshole,” you say. “Breaking up with you and stuff.”

She sighs again. “You know why I’m most angry?” she says.

Once more, you shake your head.

“I’m angry because you— you _lied_ to me, Dave. You promised me you would _tell_ me if something was wrong.”

Oh yeah. You kinda did. “That was over a year ago,” you say.

“You didn’t— you don’t tell me _anything!”_ Jade says, half-snarling. “You just run off and try to _kill_ yourself and say cryptic things about your brother hating you, and I just— I want to _help,_ Dave, but I can’t if you won’t talk to me!”

You hunch your shoulders even deeper, curl up a little tighter. “I don’t— you don’t need to help me,” you say. “I don’t want you to help. I don’t need help.”

Jade snorts. “Yeah, you fucking _do_ , idiot,” she says, and while the insult is fond, affectionate, there’s a hint of real anger in it, too. “You tried to fucking kill yourself. Let me help. Let us— the pack— help you, for once in your goddamn life. You don’t have to be the sole hero. You don’t have to— to go it alone, or be a man, or whatever fucked up thing makes you think you’re not allowed to get help when you’re falling apart.”

You laugh, weakly, bitterly, your head still hunched, almost tucked against your chest, so you can’t see her. “I don’t _deserve_ help, Jade,” you say. “I’m just a worthless fucking cunt who’s good for one thing and one thing only, and I’m not even good for _that_ anymore.”

Jade’s hand tightens on your neck, her fingers digging into the scruff of feathers covering your shoulders. If she were an inch or two to the right, she might be able to feel the dimpled bumps of your mating scar. You go limp in response, shoulders sagging.

“Dave?” Jade says, voice gentle. “What did your brother say to make you think that?”

You laugh again. “He didn’t have to _say_ anything,” you say. “The way he fucked me said it all for him.”

Jade sucks in a breath. “When… when you say fucked—”

“Oh, I mean that _literally,”_ you say, bitterly. “Yes, Jade, my brother literally fucked my stupid, whore cunt whenever it pleased him, because I’m a pathetic fucking slut. Now you know.”

Now she knows you’re dirty, tainted, _awful,_ and she can go tell the whole pack and they can kick you out and then you’ll have the space to kill yourself and you won’t have to fucking _live_ with this anymore.

There’s a brief moment in which nothing changes. Then Jade grabs your shoulders, and drags you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you to her chest.

It takes you far too long to realize that she’s _hugging_ you, rather than just attempting to crush you.

It takes you even longer to realize that _she’s_ crying.

And then you just sit there stupidly, awkwardly, frozen in her lap, your hands dangling at your sides, not sure what to do, not sure what’s happening.

You were so, so certain that, if she knew the truth, she’d reject you. Again. Instead, she’s clinging to your body, scent-marking your face, holding you like she never wants to let you go. You really have no idea what to do with that.

When she finally raises her face off your chest, her cheeks are shining with tears, and her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. She brushes a lock of hair out of your face in a way you’ve become very accustomed to your pack doing to you.

Your own face is wooden, blank, impassive.

“Oh, _Dave,”_ she says, voice thick. “Why didn’t you ever tell us? We would have— we would have _done_ something.”

“Like what?” you say. You’re genuinely surprised by how bitter your own voice is. “Come to the apartment? Called the cops? You think any of that would have _done_ anything, even if it were possible?”

Jade’s lower lip starts to wobble again. “We— we could have at least been there for you,” she whispers.

Your heart feels very full, all of a sudden, like someone dumped a load of lead in your chest. “You were,” you whisper back, thinking of all the times you messaged your friends after a heat, sore and bleeding and exhausted, just to see their words of comfort, even if they didn’t know why you needed it. “You were always there for me, Jade. All of you.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t feel like enough,” she says, voice still quiet and thick. “We should have— _I_ should have noticed something was wrong.”

You shake your own head. “I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want— I don’t know what I would have done if one of you had found out.”

Having this conversation feels surreal. Are you really sitting here and calmly talking with Jade about how your Bro fucked and ruined you? And she’s _not_ flinching away from you in disgust, or treating you with cool disdain?

Between the way John held you and comforted you when you were falling apart after breaking up with his sister, and the way Jade is now hugging you and rubbing her cheek against the top of your head to scent-mark you, you’re starting to think that maybe you judged them wrong. Maybe they’re _not_ going to drop you like a sick baseline, when they find out just how fucked up and dirty and _wrong_ you are.

That’s…

“I’m sorry,” Jade says again, after a moment. “I’m sorry for not realizing and I’m sorry for getting mad and I’m sorry for ignoring you for the past couple weeks.”

“I’m sorry for being the world’s biggest tool and breaking up with you like that,” you say. Then, after a moment you add, “I’m sorry for trying to kill myself.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide away,” she says. “I— if you ever need to talk about anything, we’re here for you. The pack is here for you. For _all_ of it. Even the— even the stuff with your Bro.”

Something like panic flickers through your chest.

“Don’t tell John and Nanna,” you say, lifting your head to look at her, pushing yourself back a bit so she knows you’re _serious._ “Don’t— don’t tell them about my Bro.”

Fuck, you can’t _handle_ it if John finds out about you— about how you already have an Alpha, about how desperate and slutty you are that you let your own brother fuck you.

Jade’s face falls. “I won’t, of course I won’t,” she says. “It’s not my story to tell.” She hesitates. “You should tell them, though. They’ll understand.”

“I’ll think about it.” You’ve thought about it. There’s no fucking _way._

Jade continues to hold and scent-mark you, the two of you sitting on the floor of her bedroom. That’s how John finds you, several hours later, absolutely panicked because you weren’t there when he woke up.

You and Jade are pack again, though, and that’s really all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck has it really been over a year since i posted the first chapter of this fic?? jesus.


End file.
